


Project: Rebirth

by LagLemon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Parent, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Body Horror, Dark Humor, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F.E.A.R AU, Fantasy, Gore, Horror, Howard Stark Is a Dick, Human Testing, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra, Implied Torture, Imprisonment, M/M, Monsters, Past Child Abuse, Previous Abusive Relationship, Psychokinesis, Psychological Trauma, Science Fiction, Skinny! Steve, Soldiers, Team Bonding, Teamwork, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, Trauma, Violence, What if - Project: Rebirth didn't end up going the way it did?, doesn't actually involve F.E.A.R characters, human test subjects, psychological abuse, supernatural powers, the hulk - Freeform, weapons design
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:12:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 101,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2406416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LagLemon/pseuds/LagLemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark has been working at Stark International - his father's company - for the past few years.  His job as an Electrical Engineer has been going swimmingly - even though he sometimes has to work as a repairman when his father is irritated with him.  He has kept himself up to date on his projects and has been giving the Board one new weapon every month, just like he promised - all the while saving his best work for himself.  The Iron Man Armor is his - and he isn't going to share it with SI no matter what.<br/>After a visit from Obadiah Stane, his father's business partner, Tony realizes that SI is a lot less stable than he's been led to believe.  Howard has been spending money left and right, and the Board needs to recover its losses.<br/>At the same time, strange things have been happening in the facility.<br/>Who is the strange blond man Tony keeps seeing wandering the facility's hallways?  And why does the stranger keep disappearing on him?  Is he losing his mind?  Or has something dark and dangerous been going on in the facility?<br/>(This is a F.E.A.R AU - an fps horror game)<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains fighting, soldiers/mercenaries killing one another as well as human testing and horror. If anything needs to be tagged, please feel free to drop me a line and tell me what needs to go up : ) You can also look me up on Tumblr (LagLemon) if you want to ask questions or whatnot!

Tony sighed and gingerly plucked a wrench from his tool kit. This was the third section of paneling he had been called down to repair this week alone and he was starting to wonder just what it was Howard was doing with Stark International’s profits; he obviously wasn’t putting it into  _ maintenance _ . The work Tony was fixing today had been done once already, judging by the deplorable condition of the screws, and the previous fix had been complete  _ shit _ . He was going to have to start knocking heads together – or whine loudly to Bruce. 

Tony grimaced. 

No. 

There would be no shouting, no head knocking and no formal complaints. Bruce would be the only one who heard about this. If he started too much trouble, well, let’s just say he didn’t want to be fired  _ again _ . He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to sweet-talk his way into a new job – not with Howard running the company. 

While Tony wasn’t,  _ strictly speaking _ , working for SI as a maintenance engineer (like Howard seemed to believe), he had been spending far too much time on his hands and knees cleaning up the  _ real _ maintenance engineer department’s messes this month. Tony was being punished. He knew that; it would be hard  _ not _ to know it, all things considered. One did not force an Electrical Engineer to mop up puke, fix broken light bulbs and fiddle with dangerous wires unless you were mad at them. 

Tony groaned and shook his head. This was a fucking disaster. There were scrapes all over the damn metal struts nestled within the wall and it looked a bit like someone had tried to take a crowbar to the safety panel – the one that kept him and everyone else who fiddled around in here from getting electrocuted. Who would have thought that SI’s Weapons Development Facility would be so poorly maintained? He wondered if this was a new development or something that had just gradually happened. Howard had always been fanatical when it came to keeping his properties up to code, or at least he had been back when Tony had been younger; Maria, Tony’s mother, had complained about it all the damn time. Howard had only one true love, she had said, and that was his _property_. He had put most of his money into keeping SI in immaculate condition. This clusterfuck of a wiring job had to have been Obadiah Stane’s doing.

Not that he thought Obie had done anything on purpose. Obie wasn’t _that_ inept; he knew better than to fuck with the building code in a place like this.

Obadiah Stane and Howard had built SI together; these days, Obie was the one at the helm when it came to the number crunching. Howard had lost a lot of money and respect over the years after his failed marriage and two failed personal projects, and the Board had decided it would be better for the company if Obie was the smiling, walking, talking mascot instead of Howard. Obie was the one who signed the checks. Howard was too busy running his special team to pay attention to the little details, or so he had said. This was all speculation, of course; there was no way to know anything for sure. Tony and Howard hadn’t exactly had a lengthy conversation in years – not since Tony had decided to study Electrical Engineering over business management. It wasn’t that Howard hadn’t wanted Tony to take Electrical Engineering – he had; he had just wanted Tony to take business management _first_ , for some reason, and he had never really explained why taking it second was akin to licking the devil’s toes.

Whatever the reason – if there actually was one – their parent-child relationship had never recovered.

Shortly after Tony’s first day of university, at the tender age of fifteen, Maria had filed for divorce and sole custody; it had been a relief, really. He hadn’t liked living in the same house with Howard, but his mother had been tolerable, if a bit cold.

The divorce had been messy, to say the least. Things had been bad before, but impossibly, they had become even _worse_. Within hours of receiving the divorce papers, Howard had written both Tony and Maria off, turned completely to his work, seemingly vanishing from public life. He had settled out of court for some reason – Tony had never really figured out why – and while Maria had received half of his assets in the settlement, she hadn’t gotten anything particularly worthwhile. Howard was a shrewd businessman, and most of his millions were tied up in SI’s business prospects or buried in hidden bank accounts –inaccessible to anyone other than him. He had signed over a meager handful of shares of SI stock to Maria as way of an ‘ _apology’_ for not having cash on hand to give her – and wasn’t that a laugh? Fifteen percent was _peanuts_ compared to the money he owed her. Maria had gotten the last laugh, in a way. She had sold the apology shares to Obie in order to pay off her own debts, bumping his shares up to thirty percent and while she had gotten an _arguably_ fair price for the shares at the time, she had complained bitterly about the settlement until the day she had died of a car accident five years later.

After that, Tony had been lost; Jarvis, the butler who had practically raised Tony, had died in the crash too, so there had been no one around to offer comfort or support. Howard had never stepped in to help out, not even to take on the funeral costs. Tony had been forced to come up with the money for both his mother and Jarvis’ funerals and his tuition all on his own; he had been sixteen, and over a hundred thousand dollars in debt. It had taken him two years to pay the debts down to a reasonable size; he had spent a few months hopping couches, it had been that bad. He had been lucky to have so many kind classmates. Then one day, after finding out that his son was nearly destitute – Tony had never found out who had spilled the beans about that, and he had been very, very angry about it – Howard had begrudgingly offered Tony a job. He had even handed over funding so Tony could work on private projects while working for him. The new job had paid well, but it came with a steep price tag. Tony was expected to turn over one working weapons-related blueprint every month he spent using SI’s facilities. He had wanted to tell Howard to shove his head up his ass, but the money, free equipment and supplies had been impossible to pass up. Besides, he had been twenty and desperate to build up a good reputation in the field – and where better to work than SI? He had decided it was better to suffer now than to suffer later, and he didn’t regret his decision – even if it did mean mopping up puke when he did something wrong.

Tony set his wrench down and wiped the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked down at his tool kit, pondering what to fix next. He was startled to find a scrawny looking young man sitting on the floor next to him. He hadn’t heard anyone approaching, but he wasn’t surprised; sometimes he got lost in work, and he had, on occasion, ended up with Pepper or Rhodey, his two best friends, standing right behind him without him even realizing that they were there. Of course, Pepper and Rhodey were in SHIELD Special Forces, so it wasn’t exactly as if they were regular people. They snuck up on people for a living, so it wasn’t like he had anything to be ashamed of – at least, that’s what he told himself.

Tony frowned at the stranger. The guy was stick-thin, bordering on malnourished and was wearing a pale blue backless hospital gown; he was barefoot and wasn’t wearing any pants. His long blond hair looked like it could use a wash or five. It tumbled down over his shoulders and rested against his hip. He had brilliant blue eyes, and despite the dour expression on his face, he was quite handsome.

“Hello there,” Tony said, carefully. He glanced around the hallway. He didn’t know this part of the facility well; the reason thing he had seen here recently was the wall panels that had wiring in them. He knew that there were test subjects being housed somewhere in the facility. This was probably one of them; he wondered idly if the stranger was an escapee, or if he had been allowed to wander on his own. Tony didn’t particularly approve of SI’s human trials, but he knew that Howard, while being a gigantic asshole, had made sure everyone was well compensated for their time and suffering; _legally_ , he kind of had to. They were required to have a safe place for the test subjects to sleep and eat, too; they were allowed to have lives of their own outside of lab time. It was possible that this was an entirely normal activity for the stranger. Maybe he took walks at two a.m. all the time. Maybe he _really_ liked wrenches and routinely stopped workers to see them.

The man looked up at Tony. He frowned, but didn’t speak. Instead, he pointed at the wrench, looking confused.

“You interested in engineering?” Tony asked.

The man blinked at Tony, clearly not understanding.

Tony picked up the wrench and held it out. “Here,” he said. “You can look at it if you want,”

The man stared at the wrench and then slowly reached out and took it. He cocked his head to the side, turning the wrench over and then smiled brightly. It was almost like he had become a different person.

“That’s a good wrench,” Tony said, gesturing to the tool kit sitting beside him. “These are all the tools of the trade – well, sort of.” He nudged the tool kit a little closer to the stranger so he could get a better look at them and smiled softly when the man eagerly turned his attention to the tools. The man looked almost _serene_ now, and the smile he gave Tony this time was so sincere, so sweet, Tony felt himself blushing in response. Sheesh – he hadn’t even done anything impressive. Why was the guy looking at him like _that_?

The man picked up a pair of pliers and opened and closed them, seemingly amused by the way they squeaked. Tony was smitten. He hadn’t met someone this adorable in a long time. He made up his mind in a split second; he had to ask the guy out. “So,” he said, clearing his throat. He turned so he could reattach the panel to the wall, trying to be as suave and charming as possible even though he was covered in grease and day-old sweat. “What’s your name, sweetheart? Do you come here often?” When he turned around, he found the hallway empty. The pliers were lying open on the floor.

Tony scratched his head and frowned. “Was it something I said?” he asked the empty hallway. It was probably something he had said. He sighed. He never had been very good at flirting with men; he had tried it a handful of times in college, and somehow it had always managed to backfire on him. Then again, it had been at least a few years since he had properly flirted with anyone in general. It wasn’t like he could hit on anyone _here_ ; everyone he knew here worked for Howard, and that was one can or worms he didn’t want to get even _remotely_ near.

Tony packed up his tools and closed his tool kit. The stranger was very obviously gone; he hadn’t heard any doors opening or closing, but he had likely just missed it. The doors around here were automatic; he had walked into his fair share of them because he hadn’t heard them close. It was fine. The guy had probably been called away – that was all. Sighing dejectedly, Tony picked up his tool kit and headed back to the Maintenance Depot. He still had two hours before his brain wouldn’t be able to function properly, and he intended to get some work done on the Iron Man armor. The cute stranger could wait.

 

 

Tony yawned and trudged down the hall. It had been two days since the last time he had been in this hallway. Yet, _again_ , the paneling was broken and he had been called away from his work to fix it. Grumbling, he plunked the tool kit down on the floor and kneeled, patting at his tool belt for a Philips head screwdriver. Where the hell had he left it? He had seen it a minute ago!

The screwdriver was gently pressed into his hand.

Tony frowned and turned. There, standing in the hallway beside him, was the adorable blond who had disappeared on him. The guy was dressed in the same awful blue scrubs, and he looked a lot happier today. He was carrying a Captain America shield pillow under his arm. Tony was a little jealous. Captain America was an SI creation, a soldier who had been made to protect the world; he was a mascot, a comic book character marketing had dreamed up. SI had slapped Cap’s face on damn near everything and then they had decided to start making merchandise. There had been t-shirts, books, toys – you name it. The Captain America brand had single-handedly saved SI from bad publicity time and time again. Cap had become so popular, even  _ Howard _ had started collecting the merchandise. Tony had been given SI leftovers for so many holidays, birthdays and events that he had started to wonder if people made anything else. While he had been initially irritated that no one had bothered to give him something he had  _ actually _ asked for, he had loved every single gift. Captain America was handsome, kind and capable, everything Tony had wanted to be as a child – hell, as an adult, even. He reminded himself to start trolling ebay for that pillow. It was too cute to pass up. 

“ _ Hey _ ,” Tony said, cracking a wide grin. “It’s  _ you _ ,”

The blond nodded and tucked the shield shaped pillow underneath him. He sat down cross-legged on the floor beside Tony, and adjusted his scrubs so they covered his knobby knees. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“I take it you had a slow night, huh?” Tony chuckled. He got to work on a screw, very aware that the stranger had huddled up against him and that they were close to bumping shoulders. It kind of nice.

The man didn’t respond. He smiled brightly again and took back the screwdriver when Tony handed it to him, setting it in the tool kit. He gave Tony a thumbs up.

“You can’t talk, can you?” Tony asked.

The man shook his head.

“Ah, I see,” Tony said, nodding sagely. He wasn’t surprised. A lot of the people Howard hired had some kind of health problem; that was why they consented to being tested on in the first place. They needed the money to pay their medical bills. “Right. Ok. Well, I’m Tony,” he said. He held out his hand and offered it to the man.

The man stared at Tony’s hand and then took it in his own, but instead of shaking it, he turned Tony’s hand over and examined the scars and callouses he found there. He seemed intrigued with the burn on Tony’s thumb, one Tony had earned after he had tried playing with a lit welding torch he was three. It had healed – _mostly_ – but the skin there was still smooth and shiny.

Tony chuckled. “Are you alright?”

The man looked up at Tony and frowned, letting Tony’s hand drop.

“Never mind,” Tony said. He turned back to his tools and picked up a cleaning cloth. He leaned closer to the wall and glared at the smudged fingerprints he found on the safety paneling. _Someone_ had clearly been screwing around here. He scrubbed at the mess, cleaning it up before someone could complain about it. He tightened a washer before turning back to his tool kit. It hadn’t been that big of a fix, but it had been time consuming to get the panel open. He had done his job well the last time and the _genius_ who had tried to repair it afterwards hadn’t been able to fuck things up too badly.

The man smiled tentatively at Tony.

“I take it you haven’t been out much, huh,” Tony said. He took one last look at the paneling before closing it up, satisfied that the connections wouldn’t break again. He and the Maintenance Supervisor were going to have a _very_ long-but- _casual_ conversation about time management. This was shit any idiot could fix! Why the hell had they called him away from his private work to tighten washers and bolts?

Well – at least it had netted him a new meeting with Cutie-pie test-subject.

Tony carefully composed himself before he turned around. He cleared his throat to ask the stranger to get a cup of coffee with him, and found himself alone – _again_. He scowled. What the hell was going on here? Did the guy like him or not? He had made a good impression? Hadn’t he? He hadn’t said any horrible pick-up lines this time – he had to have made a good impression. Tony scooped his tools up, trying not to knock the kit over and headed towards the door. Damn it! The guy hadn’t even told him his fucking name!

 

 

Tony wandered into Bruce Banner’s lab with large paper cups clutched in both hands; he had brought mochas. He set a cup down in front of Bruce and then stole one of the rolling chairs from the desk behind him and plopped himself down, letting out a satisfied groan. It was nice to be off of his feet for a few minutes. He debated on whether he could get away with taking off his boots for a few minutes and decided against it; the last thing he wanted to do was piss Bruce off more than usual.

Bruce looked up from his computer and sighed despairingly at Tony. “You’re back _again_?” he said.

“I brought _Mocha_ ,” Tony sang out. He grinned when Bruce slid the keyboard towards him and picked up the cup. Bruce always enjoyed bribery-coffee; he was almost too easy to please sometimes.

Bruce leaned back as Tony started typing, lifting his glasses up so he could rub at his eyes. “So,” he said. “What hidden secrets are we peeking at today?”

“It’s nothing classified,” Tony said with a shrug. “I just keep running into this guy when I’m on the fifth floor doing maintenance, and I keep forgetting to ask him his name,”

“I see,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “So you’re using my security clearance to get a _date_?”

“It’s not for _a date_ – per say,” Tony drawled. He pulled up the test subject database and started browsing the list he found. When that didn’t get him immediate success, he tried the search bar, using the physical descriptor tag to narrow the results. For such a large pool of test subjects, there weren’t a lot of tall, scrawny, blond guys with blue eyes; that was _interesting_. He scanned the list again and spotted a checkbox that said ‘scrub colour’. Curious, he clicked it and nearly jumped out of his skin when the speakers let out a malevolent ding. A pop-up appeared on screen telling him he had tried to access information above his clearance level.

Bruce leaned over Tony’s shoulder, casually sipping his Mocha. “What were _you_ looking at?”

“I wasn’t digging into anything _dangerous_ – I swear!” Tony insisted.

“Yeah, sure,” Bruce snorted.

“This isn’t like last time. I was just nosing around in the test subject database. Cutie-pie was in scrubs when I saw him and I just thought it would be easier to search through the different colours,” Tony muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had thought this was going to be _easy_ but clearly he had underestimated Howard Stark’s paranoia; scrub colour shouldn’t have been that big a deal, but apparently, it was. Tony could hack through all of Howard’s blocks easily, but somehow, it seemed like far too much work just to get a guy’s _name_. Besides, Howard didn’t know how good he was with computers, and he didn’t want to risk letting _that_ slip over something like this.

“Alright. I’ll bite. What does your Cutie-pie look like?” Bruce asked.

“He’s blond – has long hair and he’s scrawny as hell,” Tony grumbled. He leaned back in the rolling chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t get why that’s _classified_. He’s a test subject for christ’s sake. His name is probably on the _tax records_ ,”

Bruce frowned and drummed his fingers on his chin. As one of SI’s top research scientists, he had access to every bit of data gathered about the test subjects, no matter which department they were working in. He was had several doctorates, but didn’t work in the medical field at SI; here, he was a nuclear physicist, specializing in Gamma Radiation. He and Tony had become quick friends after Tony had discovered that Bruce had a tendency to break his equipment when he was angry; Tony could fix pretty much anything Bruce threw his way, and enjoyed the work – Bruce was just happy to have someone who could put his expensive equipment back together.

“I don’t think we _have_ anyone who looks like that working here, Tony,” Bruce said. He sipped at his Mocha, his expression turning thoughtful. “I mean, I haven’t seen this morning’s sign-in roster, but I’m pretty sure I would have noticed if there was a scrawny guy wandering around with long blond hair. Most of the guys we have around here are on the heavy side and have their heads shaved,”

Tony grimaced. “Do you guys have something against long, _beautiful_ , flowing hair?”

“Shaved heads are standard for testing,” Bruce chuckled, patting Tony on the shoulder. “I can’t really go into it without getting both of us into hot water, but let’s just say they don’t want anyone carrying anything _out_ of the lab by accident,”

“Right,” Tony grunted. He picked up his own Mocha and gave it a swirl. “Well, if you see the guy, can you ask him his name?”

“Sure,” Bruce said. “I’ll even tell him you said hello if you want,”

“Thanks,” Tony said. He grinned and cradled his Mocha as if it was his firstborn, “You’ll probably have to get him to write everything down. I think he’s mute or something,”

Bruce smiled softly. “Tell you what. I’ll carry around a notebook, just in case.” He turned Tony’s chair around. “Now shouldn’t you be _working_?”

“I know, I know,” Tony groaned. He swirled his Mocha around in his cup again, watching as the milk and chocolate separated and combined.

“Don’t tell me you’re in a slump,” Bruce teased.

“I’m a genius,” Tony snorted. “I’m _never_ in a slump,”

“Right,”

“I’m taking a _break_ ,” Tony said, primly.

Bruce smirked. “Sure you are,”

“I am,” Tony said. He spun the chair around in a lazy circle, bumping his feet against Bruce’s shins. “I swear. I just need an hour or two to stop thinking about how Howard decided to dump my Sonic Taser designs because they weren’t _lethal_ enough,”

“Ouch,” Bruce winced. “That was going to pay off the last of your student loans, wasn’t it?”

“Pretty much. Now I’m going to have to pay off an extra years’ worth of interest,” Tony growled. He tightened his grip on his coffee cup. He had been trying to get ahead on paying his bills, but it seemed like Howard was more than happy to keep him in debt and chained to a desk for the rest of his life. Maybe that was the plan; maybe Howard wasn’t getting revenge after all. Maybe Howard just didn’t want Tony to _ever_ be happy. Of course, what Howard didn’t know was that Tony’s pile of debt wasn’t _exactly_ student loans and funeral expenses. He had paid most of _that_ off early on by putting every last penny he had earned while working warehouse jobs into the payments. Right now he was paying off a boatload of equipment bills and a mortgage. The house had been a strategic investment. It wasn’t under his name because his credit was so bad; his friend Janet Van Dyne was holding the deed for him and letting him pay it off in installments. He was going to owe her a thousand times over once he was done paying the house off, but it would be worth it in the long run. He had a working lab there and everything was almost set up the way he wanted it. In a few years, he wouldn’t have to work at SI anymore.

“Better luck next time, I guess,” Bruce said, patting Tony’s shoulder. “Speaking of _work_ ,”

“I know, I know,” Tony said, pretending to fall asleep. “One of us has to do some,”

“Bingo,” Bruce said, slipping back into his chair. He pulled his keyboard back and cleared the screen of the pop-up, diving back into his personal files. “I’ll keep an eye out for your mystery test subject. Now go get some cleaning done and get to bed. I heard that Stane’s going to be wandering through your floor tomorrow morning,”

Tony winced. _Yikes_. He was going to do a _hell-of-a-lot_ more than some casual cleaning to get ready for a visit from Obie. Things needed to be hidden and hidden fast. There was no way in hell he was going to let anyone see the Iron Man armor – aside from his friends, of course – and suit was still sitting out in the open. The armor was _his_ ; no one was going to get their grubby mitts on it. “Thanks for the heads up,” he said. He stood up and sprinted for the door, hurling his empty cup into the trash. “See you later, Bruce,”

“Later, Tony,” Bruce called out. He waved blindly; his eyes were glued to his computer screen.

 

 

Tony worked for three long hours on the armor. He finished the last bit of delicate soldering needed to get the suit’s gauntlets working properly and leaned back in his rolling chair. He had been working on the suit for so long now, he hadn’t thought about what would happen when he was finished with it. He knew he was going to end up making improvements to it sooner rather than later; he could already see things he wanted to fix. The question wasn’t _if_ he was going to do the fixes – it was how he was going to get the parts to make those improvements. Everything he wanted to do would be obscenely expensive, and he didn’t exactly have any gold titanium alloy lying around just waiting to be used. He was going to have to make a list and start his supply collection from the beginning all over again.

Exhausted and weary, Tony locked the silver prototype Iron Man armor away in its electronic lockbox; the lockbox was the size of a footlocker and a little too easy to spot amidst the rest of his workshop clutter, but once he put a of a pile of clean energy blueprints on the lid, the lockbox was well disguised. Obie had never seemed even _remotely_ interested in clean energy and Tony had a feeling that it would be the one thing Obie would actively _avoid_. He left a miniaturized model of his Jericho Missile system lying on his desk, something he knew Obie would drool over, and then cleared out for the night, taking his Iron Man blueprints with him – as usual.

He had never put the suit’s blueprints into the system for fear of someone hacking into his work computer, but thanks to his eidetic memory, there was no way he could lose the work – even if he lost the blueprints themselves. He liked having them around to look at and scribble on; it was oddly comforting. He didn’t have to worry about losing the hardcopies. If anyone came across the blueprints, assuming they ever got out of his sight for more than a few seconds, they wouldn’t know what to make of them; he had been taking precautions ever since he had found Obie in his office the first time. The Iron Man armor blueprints were written in scrambled code and drawn on thin, see-through, paper. Without him, no one could understand the finished product. With one missing page, the blueprints would have looked like old drafting sketches with notes scribbled onto them. He had no intention of _ever_ letting Obie – or Howard – see the suit; his bastard of a father could get his castoff ideas – the Iron Man Suit and everything else was his and his alone.

Tony staggered sleepily down the hall, tapping his way through the security checkpoints with his keycard. He made it to the elevator and promptly collapsed against the wall beside it. He called the elevator with a lazy button press and dozed while waiting for it to arrive. His workshop was nestled in the middle of a bunch of throw-away workshops, all of which had better equipment than his did. Howard had kept his end of the bargain, yes, and he had supplied whatever Tony asked for, but it usually took _weeks_ to get anything new in unless Tony badgered the Quartermaster about it endlessly. Still, even if his workshop wasn’t the biggest and his equipment wasn’t the best, he still had space to work, a secure location and he wasn’t being charged rent. That made it all worth it.

When he reached the ground floor, Tony yawned and staggered out into the lobby. Staff Housing Block A was a long way away, and he loathed the walk; he had hated the dark ever since he was little. The main pathways outside were well-lit, but he always felt uncomfortable walking on them. It always felt like something was _watching_ him from the shadows. Realistically, he knew that was absolutely true. There were security cameras focused in on every last _inch_ of SI, and Staff Housing Block A was no exception. No one got in or out of the facility without security knowing about it; there were too many weapons specialists living here, and too many chances for things to go wrong without guards on site every minute of every hour. Howard Stark’s one goal in life was to make money, and he didn’t like anyone stealing his ideas – or the people he hired. Those who tried to sneak in to spy were captured, beaten and removed from the premises. Tony hadn’t witnessed any of that firsthand, but he had seen the footage when he had been poking around in the surveillance floor doing routine maintenance to the system; it had been worse to see than to hear about. The files were encrypted, of course, so he doubted that Howard knew that he had seen the beatings. SI wasn’t going to let anyone get that kind of thing leaked to the media – not when it was a lawsuit waiting to happen. Needless to say, Tony hadn’t left a trail for anyone to follow; he had snuck in and back out in a matter of minutes.

Tony used his keycard to let himself out of the lobby, waved goodbye to the security guard, and stepped out into the crisp night air. He blinked slowly, acclimatizing to the darkness. The clouds up above were thick and gloomy. Perfect. A great end to a great day. He started walking just as the rain began to fall. By the time he made it to the front door of Staff Housing Block A, he was soaking wet.

Shivering and dripping, he used his keycard to get through the security door and headed to his apartment on the second floor. His boots squelched as he walked. He stuck his key in his door and stepped inside. It wasn’t much, but it was home. His apartment had a small kitchen, his own bathroom and a bedroom-slash-living room. He had been a lot worse off when he was in university, even though he had earned his fair share of scholarships; he knew better than to complain about things here. At least _here_ he didn’t have to cook on a smuggled-in hotplate. He peeled his feet out of his wet boots and set them and his socks by the heat register to dry out before shuffling his way across the carpet into the bathroom to wring out the rest of his clothing. He paused to check his beard in the bathroom mirror. Everything looked good, but there were a few sections near his neck that could use a bit of a trim; he decided to deal with it tomorrow, when his hand was steadier. He set his alarm for six a.m. and collapsed onto his bed, intending to get in a hot shower before leaving tomorrow morning.

 

 

His alarm failed to go off. Tony woke at ten minutes to seven, cursing a blue streak. He barely had time to brush his teeth before he had to leave. He pulled on a clean pair of pants and a slightly wrinkled shirt, knowing there was nothing to be done about the state of his hair or beard. He hoped he could get away with looking unkempt; this wasn’t the worst he had looked, but it wasn’t the best either. He locked up, and ran for it, praying Obadiah would be late.

He wasn’t.

By the time Tony made it to his workshop, Obadiah was already settled in Tony’s favourite rolling chair, sipping away at a steaming hot latte. He smirked at Tony, his eyes crinkling at the corners and offered Tony a Danish.

Tony ate gratefully, choking down pastry. “Thanks,” he said.

“Not a problem,” Obadiah said. “I take it you slept in?”

“Sadly, yes,” Tony grumbled. He ran his fingers through his hair and casually glanced around the room, pretending to be looking for a pencil. Nothing _looked_ like it had been disturbed, but that didn’t mean Obie hadn’t snooped; the guy was squirrely as hell and he was a lot craftier than he looked. Tony made a mental note to check his hidden security cameras when he got back home. If Obie had seen something he didn’t like, that might mean the ending of his career and funding. He hoped Obie had seen the Jericho prototypes and papers; if Obie _hadn’t_ , he was going to have to make sure the bastard had a copy before he left the room. This wasn’t a performance review, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t an important visit.

“So,” Obadiah said, clearing his throat. “I talked with your father this morning,”

“Oh?” Tony tried not to show too much interest. Most conversations that started with the phrase ‘I talked with your father this morning’ did not end well for him, and he had no intention of letting those words crush him this early in the morning. He was glad he had had years faking indifference because if he hadn’t, he would have been sweating through his shirt right about now. “What’s up with dear old dad?” Tony asked.

“He says you can have the blueprints for the Arc Reactor, provided you show him the finished miniaturization before anyone else,” Obie said. He blew on his latte and chuckled when Tony stared open-mouthed at him. “I thought you’d like that,”

“I’ve been wanting to get a look at the Arc’s plans for _years_ ,” Tony mumbled, blindly picking up a pad of paper. “Do you think he’s actually going to give me the files this time?”

“They’re already on the server, waiting for you,” Obie said. He chuckled, the sound a deep rumble, and gestured magnanimously with a hand to the computer beside him. “Go ahead. I know you want to take a peek,”

Tony dropped the pad of paper and casually stepped over to the computer. He sat down in the flat-backed chair beside it, and typed away slowly, as though concerned he might have misspelled his password. He casually scanned the updated directory. He was shocked to see that the files were, in fact, actually _there_. He clicked on the first set of folders and was even more shocked to see that they weren’t password protected _or_ encrypted. He glanced over his shoulder at Obie, unnerved by the simplicity of the task. “What’s the catch?” he asked, gnawing on the inside of his lower lip.

“There’s no catch,” Obadiah drawled. “SI can always use the extra funding. If you can miniaturize the reactor, we could make a bundle. The Clean Energy Market is relatively untapped – by us at least. We’d like to have a foot in the door before it gets slammed in our faces.” He smiled thinly. “And, well, after Howard’s latest fuck-up, the Board decided we needed to branch out before we get left behind,”

“I thought that was just a rumor,” Tony said. He had been hoping the news wasn’t true, but it certainly explained why Obie was here. Thanks, _Howard_ , Tony thought, bitterly. Way to dump your problems on everyone else – _again_. “Did Howard burn through all of his research cash like they’re saying?” Tony gritted out. If that part was true too, then his own funding might be in jeopardy. Budget cuts always swung low and fast and it wasn’t the top employees who got fucked over – it was always the little guys.

Obadiah let out a weary sigh and set down his cup. “Your father is a stubborn man, Tony,” he said. “You know that.”

“There’s stubborn, and then there’s _stupid_ ,” Tony said, letting his fingers slip off of the keyboard.

“I’m going to put this bluntly because I like you. Howard’s in trouble with the Board,” Obadiah said. The happy-go-lucky expression had slid off of his face. His smile had turned grim and stiff; Tony was fairly certain it was going to peel clean off Obie’s face if the guy didn’t hear something good soon.

“What does that mean?” Tony asked, cautiously.

“If Howard doesn’t produce results with his latest project, there’s going to be a lot of changes happening around here. I felt you should know,” Obie said.

“ _Big_ changes?” Tony repeated, dully.

“Big changes,” Obadiah agreed. “They’re going to kick Howard off the Board _entirely_ if he doesn’t get his act together. He’s thrown away too many little projects in favor of his own work over the years, and it’s become a bit of a problem. The other members of the Board don’t feel they can trust his judgement anymore, and frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken _this_ long for them to notice what he’s been doing,”

“He’s a genius,” Tony said, shaking his head. “They probably just let him have a long leash because they think he’ll bail them out one day,”

“ _Genius_ doesn’t mean shit if you can’t back it up with revenue,” Obadiah chuckled, darkly.

“Oh, I know that,” Tony said. He leaned back in his chair, casually trying to get rid of the sweat that had dripped down the back of his neck by stretching and wiping at it with his sleeve. This was bad – _very_ bad. If Howard got himself thrown off of the Board, there would be no reason for anyone at SI to keep _him_ around. Sure, he could make trinkets, and weapons, but he wasn’t Howard Stark – he was just Howard’s good-for-nothing _son_. Howard had made sure the world had heard _that_ broken record on repeat ever since Tony was nine; if Howard’s reputation went down in flames, so would Tony’s. If he did survive the budget cut purge, he wouldn’t last for very long. Who would want to keep someone with the last name of Stark after the news got out that Howard had been canned?

Tony smiled at Obie, hoping that he looked sufficiently charming. “When do you need the miniaturization finished?” he asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t have minded getting it _yesterday_ ,” Obadiah said, with a grimace. “But seeing as how Howard didn’t bother handing over the files before now, the end of the week should do,”

“Great,” Tony said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had six and half days to decipher Howard’s horrible handwriting. This was going to be so much _fun_. He turned to the computer, already detesting the file on display. “Did you need anything else? Or am I good to go?” he asked, cracking his knuckles.

“Did you happen to finish the Jericho Missile project, by any chance?” Obadiah asked, standing up. He dusted invisible lint off of his knees and turned to the pile of prototypes Tony had left out for him to find.

“They’re ready for testing,” Tony said, absently. A bead of sweat dribbled down the side of his face when Obadiah stepped closer to the lockbox where the Iron Man armor lay hidden. “They should work just fine,” he said, clearing his throat loudly, trying to draw Obie’s attention.

“ _Should_ doesn’t cut it,” Obadiah growled, whirling away from the blueprints. He scowled dangerously at Tony. “Do they work or not, Tony?”

“They work in the computer simulations,” Tony said, quickly. The last thing he wanted was Obie thinking that the missiles didn’t work.

Obadiah cocked an eyebrow, his cranky frown turning into a tentative smile. “And you didn’t send them up for trials?”

“I just finished putting the final touches on them last night,” Tony lied smoothly. “I didn’t want to rush them. I’d rather not blow up an entire facility by cutting corners,”

Obadiah’s stern gaze softened further. “Fair enough,” he said. He put his hand on Tony’s shoulder and squeezed, the touch both reassuring and frightening. “Send the files to the assembly team so they can get started tonight. I want those missiles tested before the Board can start complaining we don’t have any new weapons for them to sell,”

“Sure,” Tony said, turning back to the computer. He double clicked on the Jericho file and attached it to his daily email to Assembly as Obie paced behind him. “There – done. You can stop wearing a hole in the floor now,”

Pacified, Obadiah flashed Tony a crooked smile and sauntered out of the room, leaving Tony to silently panic.

 

 

Tony’s face felt like it was made out of stone by the time he made it out of his workshop for a break. He lurched his way to the elevator, his hands shaking from consuming far more coffee than was healthy. He stepped inside and sent the elevator down to the cafeteria. The place was empty, aside from the night staff; they had apparently foreseen his arrival, and before he had even pulled out his food card, they had a bag of sandwiches, Oreos and a container of soup ready for him at the till. Grateful, exhausted and filled with despair over his failure to get anywhere with the Arc Reactor miniaturization, he paid for his meal and crept back to the elevator. He didn’t look at the button he pressed this time. He leaned against the elevator wall and closed his eyes so he could get a few precious seconds of sleep.

The elevator opened with a cheerful chime.

Tony opened his eyes and blinked blearily.

This wasn’t his floor.

This wasn’t even _close_ to his floor.

He raised his hand to push the right button and then stopped. There, standing in the darkened hallway, was Cutie-pie. Tony heaved himself out of the elevator without a second though. He grinned broadly at the man, waving as best he could with the bulky bags in hand. “Hey,” he called out.

The man smiled and waved back, shuffling closer. He was dressed in his usual scrubs, and had the shield shaped pillow tucked under his arm again.

Tony set his food down and sat, leaning back against the wall; the man dropped his cushion to the floor beside Tony and sat down, letting his hands fall to rest his knees.

“So,” Tony said. “How are things going with you?”

The man shrugged and pointed to Tony.

“Me? Oh, I’m fine,” Tony said. He snorted when the man cocked an eyebrow and smiled at him. “Alright – ok. I’m lying. I’m working on a new project, and it’s not going very well.”

The man stared calmly at Tony and waved a hand as if to tell Tony to elaborate.

Tony sighed and pushed the bag of food closer to the wall so he couldn’t accidentally send it flying. Strictly speaking, there wasn’t supposed to be any food down here – or anywhere, really – outside of the cafeteria or break rooms. Everything was supposed to be squeaky clean for procedure’s sake. There were quite a few different chemicals under development in SI’s many labs, and if someone’s food ended up contaminated, things would get ugly fast. He had never bothered with obeying the rules, of course; unlike the rest of the morons here, he knew to keep to his workshop and eat over a garbage can. There wasn’t much chance of something bad happening to his food at any rate. The walls on this floor were made out of smooth, beige metal that was slathered in an antibacterial coating. That coating was on damn near everything in the facility – including the Cafeteria tables – and it had withstood the test of time again and again. As an added bonus, every last workshop and laboratory was designed to be self-sealing in case something unthinkable happened; Howard might have let the wiring go to hell, but he had made sure to keep the place clean and secure.

Tony knew he would catch hell if he got caught eating here, but he couldn’t help himself; his stomach was rumbling too loud for him to concentrate on Cutie-pie and that wasn’t right. He opened up the paper bag and pulled out a sandwich, tearing open the plastic wrap with his teeth. He smiled sheepishly at the man. “Sorry – I didn’t really eat breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner, for that matter.”

The man chuckled and leaned back against the wall, letting his eyes close. His eyelashes looked like they had been crafted from pure gold; Tony couldn’t stop staring at them.

Tony cleared his throat and tapped the man on the shoulder. “Hey,” he said, “You want some? I’ve got a bunch of stuff here,”

The man turned slowly, letting his hair pool around his shoulders and eyed the sandwich. He shook his head after a minute of quiet contemplation.

Tony shrugged and went back to eating. “I finally got the blueprints my asshole of a father’s been promising to give me, and I can’t figure out how to make them work. I mean, I know he wrote in failsafes so no one could copy the thing or steal it, but this is _beyond_ obsessive. I’m pretty sure he’s just fucking with me at this point,”

The man smiled crookedly.

“I know, I know,” Tony grumbled, biting viciously into his sandwich. “It’s only been a day, but if I don’t get this done by the end of the week, I’m going to be up shit creek without a paddle.” He pulled a bottle of coke out from his bag and twisted it open, chugging half of the bottle in one go. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “If I fuck this one up, I’m going to lose everything – _again_ ,” he grumbled.

The man reached out and patted Tony’s knee. He smiled softly.

Tony chuckled. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m sorry, I’m talking your ear off,”

The man shrugged.

“So what’s your name?” Tony asked, finishing the last of his sandwich. His stomach was full, and despite the fact that he was sitting on the cement floor and leaning up against metal walls, he was warm and comfortable. He yawned into his arm.

The man reached down and traced letters out onto the floor, moving slowly so Tony could see what he was doing.

“Steve?” Tony said. “That’s your name?”

The man nodded eagerly. He smiled brightly at Tony.

Steve. Huh. It was a good name; it sounded familiar somehow. Tony grinned. “Nice to meet you, Steve,” he said. He reached out and took Steve’s hand in his.

Steve grinned broadly and gave Tony’s hand a shake. He had a steely grip for such a little guy.

Tony let out a burp as indigestion reared its ugly head and pulled his hand back, laughing to cover his embarrassment. “Sorry, man,” he said, leaning back against the wall. “It’s been a long day,”

Steve chuckled and nodded along. He leaned back against the wall too. His leg was warm against Tony’s.

The lights flickered.

Tony cursed and closed his eyes. He was probably going to have to come back down here to fix the fucking wiring _again_. Goddamned lights – goddamned cost cutting! This place was going to be the death of him. “So which department are you working with?” he drawled, trying to ignore the flickering lights. It wasn’t all bad, he supposed. At least he would have someone to talk with while he was working.

His question was met with silence.

He realized, after a minute that he wouldn’t actually hear a response. Steve was going to have to write one out. Tony opened his eyes and turned, his cheeks faintly red. He was surprised to find the hallway empty. He swallowed hard and rubbed at his eyes.

Had he been _dreaming_ the entire conversation?

He had suffered through disastrous sleepwalking before, but he had never managed to sleep- _eat_ ; this was new.

He glanced around the hallway and then slowly scooped up his bottle of coke and his paper bags; his knees cracked loudly, echoing down the empty hallway. He gave his head a melancholic shake and headed back to the elevator. He hoped to whatever deity was up there – if there was one – that he wasn’t losing his goddamned mind.

 

 

“Hey, Stark,”

Tony looked up from his work, blinking owlishly. He flipped his welding goggles up and turned around slowly, cracking his back in the process. He frowned. He hadn’t meant to do that, but oh well. His back felt a little better now.

Bruce hovered in the doorway, clutching a bag of chips and a cup of coffee. He gave the bag a gentle rattle. “You got a minute for a man with chips?”

“Sure,” Tony said. He _didn’t_ actually have time for a break, but now that the opportunity had arisen on its own, he decided to go with it. Besides – those chips looked delicious, and who was he to turn down free chips? He shut his welding torch off and set it down; it felt as if it weighed a good ton and a half. He shucked his gloves and rubbed life back into his fingers. His upper body ached. He licked his cracked lips and tried to remember the last time he had had a drink.

Bruce pulled up a chair beside Tony’s computer desk and sat down, setting the bag of chips on the table. He looked paler than usual, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He sipped his coffee and watched with apparent amusement as Tony, sleep deprived and jittery, tried to tear open the chip bag without sending everything flying across the room.

“Ok,” Bruce chuckled. “Don’t gnaw your way through it.” He snatched the bag from Tony’s hands and opened it; the plastic squealed.

Tony scowled. “Spoilsport,”

Bruce handed him the bag of chips with a smirk. “Next time, just ask,”

“Fine,” Tony muttered, stuffing chips into his mouth. He closed his eyes and savored the flavor. Salt and Vinegar had always been one of his favourites, but he hadn’t thought that Bruce had known. “What’s up, Bruce?” he asked.

“I have a question for you,” Bruce said, slowly.

Tony frowned. “Is this about the missing apple from your fridge? Because I swear to god – it wasn’t me this time.”

“It’s not about the missing apple,” Bruce grumbled. His expression turned grim. “I had a talk with the Admin guys earlier,”

“And?” Tony squinted at Bruce. This was either extremely bad news, or the _precursor_ to extremely bad news. The Admin almost never got involved in anyone’s business unless something awful had happened in the system; they watched every entry to the Intranet in real-time, and kept the place virus-free. If they decided to get involved after seeing someone doing something naughty, they made sure the punishment was _severe_.

“They were _really_ ticked off with your search the other day,” Bruce growled.

“Oh,” Tony said. He grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. That.”

“Yeah,” Bruce said, glaring at Tony. “ _That_.”

“Sorry,” Tony grumbled, looking mournfully down into his nearly-empty chip bag.

“Yes, I know you’re sorry. That’s not why I’m bringing it up,” Bruce grunted.

“Don’t worry – I won’t go slinking around in the system again. I caught up with him,” Tony said, popping another chip into his mouth. “He said his name is Steve. Well, he didn’t exactly tell me his name. He wrote it down on the floor with his finger, but that’s pretty much the same thing, right?”

“Tony,” Bruce sighed, setting down his cup of coffee.

“What?”

“There are no test subjects in this building who are mute,” Bruce said, calmly. He shook his head when Tony scowled at him. “And before you ask, I had them look up all the old files on the off chance that there _really_ was a blond haired blue-eyed guy wandering around with long, flowing, hair, and they told me I was _crazy_. The only guy they ever had here who matches that description died years ago.”

“What was his name?” Tony asked, crumpling up the chip bag.

“What?” Bruce scowled.

“What was his name – the guy who died,” Tony said. He chucked the chip bag into the garbage.

“His name was Steven Grant Rogers,” Bruce said. His eyes narrowed. “ _Wait_ – what are you saying? You think you’re being _haunted_?”

Tony scrubbed a hand over his beard. What _was_ he saying? His stomach churned unpleasantly; Steve couldn’t be _dead_ – right? He _couldn’t_ be. It had to be a mistake. Maybe he had misread what Steve had written. Maybe his name was Stewart – or Stan. That was possible, right?

“Tony,”

Tony heaved a sigh. “I don’t know what to tell you, Bruce,”

“ _Tony_ ,” Bruce murmured, cradling his head in his hands. “There is _no way_ this guy was walking around,”

“I know – I _heard_ ,” Tony grumbled. “Steve Rogers is dead. I get that.”

“He wasn’t a bad guy,” Bruce murmured. “If it’s any consolation, he _seemed_ nice.”

“Oh?” Tony said. “My ghost was a sweetheart? I kind of figured, but you know how it with _ghosts_ – they’re supposed to be insane and vindictive,”

“He was in Erskine’s first batch of test subjects. He wasn’t even a teensy bit insane or vindictive,” Bruce snorted, carding his fingers through his greasy hair. “Steve was the only one the Super Soldier Serum worked on – well, the only one they didn’t outright _lose_ ,”

Tony frowned. “They lost someone? I didn’t know that. Are you sure?”

“I know what I’m talking about here,” Bruce said, jabbing his thumb into his chest. “ _I’m_ working on the recovery project.”

“Wait – they _lost_ the serum? They’re trying to _recover_ it?” Tony said. Holy _hell_! How many projects were going on that he didn’t know about? He hadn’t expected a signed invitation to see the work, but it would have been nice to know about it.

“It’s a new project,” Bruce admitted reluctantly. “I was hired to pick at the data and see if I could make anything of it. The Board wanted to see if there was hope for a revival of sorts,”

“I though Howard had all of it written down,” Tony murmured. He gnawed on the side of his thumb.

“He did,” Bruce sighed. “The problem isn’t with Howard’s notes – it’s with Erskine’s. What he left behind isn’t all that _useful_. Erskine never wrote down what he actually did in those final crucial steps. We’ve got piles and piles of theories about what happened – how the machinery, Vita Rays and injections interacted, but we haven’t been able to reproduce it even in computer simulations. Was it the Vita Rays that did it? Was it one of the other injections? Was it the Gamma Rays the machine put out? Was it what the guy ate the night before? We really don’t know,”

“I take it that’s what Howard’s been working on,” Tony grumbled. He wasn’t surprised. Howard had been kicking himself for Erskine’s death for a long time, and no one had been able to get him out of his head for almost a year after the assassination had happened. He had been fanatical about Project: Rebirth – hell, he had been obsessed with the idea of making a Super Soldier well before he had married Maria. He had missed more than a few birthdays and anniversaries because he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“No, Howard’s working on something else,” Bruce said, shaking his head. “After the last of the Howling Commandos – the guys who volunteered – died, SI’s Board of Directors forced Howard to move on to other projects. I’m the guy who got stuck working on all the shitty data once Howard was done with it.” Bruce looked around nervously, scoping out the cameras. “I shouldn’t have said that,”

“Don’t worry,” Tony said, softly. “I bugged the cameras years ago. I don’t like spies hearing about my work either,”

Bruce relaxed marginally. “If Howard finds out you know, you didn’t hear that from me,”

“Sure,” Tony chuckled. “I’ll pinkie swear on it if you want,”

Bruce smiled, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. “They don’t want me talking about it with anyone until it’s ready,”

“Yeah, I figured,” Tony said. “Howard didn’t talk about his work at home. He used to complain that I was a blabbermouth,”

“Well, you kind of _are_ ,” Bruce teased.

Tony scowled. “Gee, thanks,”

“Don’t worry,” Bruce said. He patted Tony’s hand solemnly. “I trust you.”

“Sure,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “Sure you do.”

“I think I’m getting ready for human trials,” Bruce said. He grinned, his excitement overriding his worry. “I haven’t said anything to Howard yet – but I think we’re ready this time,”

Tony’s eyes widened. He rolled his chair closer until he was bumping knees with Bruce. “You’re _kidding_ ,”

“I’m not,” Bruce said. He glanced over his shoulder at the door and then looked back at Tony. “Howard’s not going to like it. The last time I came up to his floor with news, he kind of screamed in my face and told me to get the fuck out of his office,”

“Wow,” Tony whistled. “I think I’m looking at the man who singlehandedly saved SI from bankruptcy,”

“What?” Bruce said, jerking back in alarm, sending his chair skidding a good foot backwards. His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose; he pushed them back up with a wince. “ _Bankruptcy_? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I heard it from Obie that Howard might get his ass kicked off the board,” Tony said. He scratched at a patch of dry skin on the side of his neck and wondered if it would have been better to keep that news to himself. He hadn’t wanted to scare Bruce; Bruce didn’t do well with surprises. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s _bankruptcy_ exactly, but if the Board’s poking their heads in, it probably has to do with money,”

“Probably,” Bruce agreed with a groan. He leaned forwards, his shoulders slumping. “Shit, Tony. That’s bad.”

“I know,” Tony grunted.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Bruce moaned in despair.

“I only found out yesterday morning,” Tony said. He gestured over to the nearly-finished miniaturized Arc Reactor sitting on his worktable. He had begged the parts he needed off of the other lab workers on his floor in order to get them before the month was out; the Quartermaster wasn’t in a very good mood this week, and the usual bribery hadn’t worked. The mini-reactor wasn’t perfect by Tony’s standards, but it worked and he was more than happy to share his success, even if it meant letting Howard get his grubby hands on his work. “I’m trying to buy us some time with _that_ ,” he said.

Bruce wheeled his chair over to the worktable and peered at the delicate work. He clucked his tongue. “You’re playing with Arc Reactor technology?”

“Yep,” Tony said, gliding backwards on his rolling chair. He gestured to the reactor, grinning madly. Even though he was running on only fifteen minutes worth of sleep, he was still good to go – at least for a little longer, and really, that was all the time he needed to show off his work. “This baby is going to change the market,”

“Assuming, of course, that Howard lets you use it,” Bruce chuckled.

Tony let out a mournful whine and leaned back in his chair so he could stair forlornly up at the ceiling. He hadn’t thought about that. Howard was a stubborn asshole; he had handed over the blueprints – blueprints that Tony had been forced to redraw from scratch in order to get them to work – but that didn’t mean Howard would approve of the Arc’s use. Howard Stark owned the Arc Reactor and everything associated with it – it wasn’t SI tech, even if Obie seemed to think it was. SI had no say when it came to this branch of tech, and if Howard decided he didn’t want to share with the rest of the world, there was no way to stop him from gleefully destroying all the work Tony had just done.

This day was just getting worse and worse.

“You didn’t think it through, did you?” Bruce murmured. He gave Tony a sympathetic smile; his father wasn’t the nicest guy either, and he knew just what it was like to have his work stomped on. He glanced down at the Arc Reactor and shook his head sadly. “It’s really impressive, Tony,” he said. “ _Really_. Howard couldn’t get the thing to work at this size – and he spent _years_ trying to figure it out. You’re going to be treated like _gold_ around here once this gets out,”

“I highly doubt I’m going to get credit for it and I don’t know if I’d want the fame even if they offered it,” Tony grunted. The last thing he needed now was to point out that he had done something _better_ than Howard. The bastard would probably sabotage every last thing Tony did when he found out that Tony had succeeded where he had failed. “Oh god – I’m _doomed_!” Tony moaned.

“If you really think that’s the case, you’re going to want to keep this one to yourself for a few more days,” Bruce said.

“Good idea,” Tony said. He glance over at the Iron Man Armor. He had been looking for a power source to get the suit going for a solid three months, and this would be the perfect fit. Fuck Howard. The work he had done was _his_ – even if Howard had done the initial design. He gritted his teeth. “Well,” he muttered, “At least I’ll have something to use it on now. The suit’s going to have one _hell_ of a battery,”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Bruce said. He pushed his rolling chair back over to the computer terminal. “Look – just do me a favor, alright?”

“Sure,” Tony said, scowling down at the Arc Reactor.

“ _Seriously_ ,” Bruce said, resting a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony looked up. “I am completely serious – what do you need me to do? Name it and it’s done,”

“Finish up here and go get some sleep. Steve Rogers – or whoever it is you’re seeing in the hallways isn’t real. You need to be careful, Tony. If someone hears about you poking around, I won’t be able to protect you next time – and that goes for people hearing about you seeing things, too. If they think you’re nuts, the Board isn’t going to let you keep working for them, even if you are smarter than every person here combined,”

Tony winced. “Message heard and understood,” he said. He sat up and saluted Bruce. “I’ll finish up and head off to bed,”

“You do that,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes. “See you later, alright? And if you see Steve again, tell me. We’ll figure this out together,”

“Ok,” Tony sighed. He gave Bruce a tired wave and turned back to the Arc Reactor. He had a chestplate to modify and the work wasn’t going to finish itself. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of emergency alarms was never a good thing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for gore, blood, violence and warfare.

Tony rubbed at his sore eyes and pulled the door to his apartment open with a weary tug. He was ready to tip over at any second, and if his bed hadn’t been so close at hand, he might have considered just lying down on the floor and going to sleep right there in his living room with his face mashed into the thick carpet. He remembered belatedly that he needed to lock the door after he hit the corner of the couch with his thigh, so he dragged himself over to it and did just that. Finally free of responsibility, he lurched towards his bedroom, shedding his clothing as he went, leaving everything where it fell. Naked, sweaty and covered in a thin layer of grease, Tony collapsed onto his bed and pulled his duvet over his head. He curled up into a ball with a long, satisfied sigh. The suit was ready for testing and he had nothing but time now that the Arc Reactor had been finished. 

He woke with a snort when the security alarm started blaring; he looked around blearily but couldn’t find his alarm clock. He had a feeling he had knocked it off of his dresser again. Groaning, he tried to tuck his head under his pillow to muffle the alarm’s infernal  _ shriek _ , but it was no use. The alarm had been designed to be impossible to ignore, and for a good reason; it only went off when SI was under attack. 

Tony rolled off of his bed, landing on the carpet with a muffled thump. He patted around at the floor in the dark, looking for his clothes. Even in his sleep-addled state, he could remember that he hadn’t done laundry in ages and that his dresser was empty. Where the hell had  _ all _ of his clothing gone? Hadn’t he just been wearing it? He could have  _ sworn _ he had been dressed earlier.

Ah – there! 

He picked up his shirt and gave it a tentative sniff. It smelled alright; it wasn’t great, but it wasn’t  _ bad _ . It might even have been clean at some point in the day. He heard his front door open and panicked, diving under his bed with his shirt held tightly in hand. Footsteps echoed into the room. He could make out five sets of boots from his position on the floor and he didn’t like the look of them. This wasn’t good. If it had been one or two attackers,  _ maybe _ he could have fought them off and made it out of the room alive – but  _ five attackers _ ? Five was way more than he could handle even if he hadn’t been exhausted and naked.

“Tony?”

Tony banged his head on the bedframe. He knew that voice. “ _Pepper_?” he called out tentatively.

The boots moved; someone dropped down to their knees in front of the bed. Pepper’s worried face appeared beside the mattress. “Tony! Oh thank god,” she said. Her long red hair was pulled back and tied in a bun to keep it out of her eyes, and she had a helmet in her hands. She was in black SHIELD tactical gear and from what Tony could see, she was armed to the teeth and ready for a fight. She arched a delicate eyebrow. “Why are you _naked_ and hiding under your bed?”

“I was kind of sleeping when you _assholes_ barged into my apartment,” Tony muttered, inching his way out from under the bed.

Pepper stepped back and scooped up the pair of pants Tony had been searching for moments before their arrival. The rest of her team was dressed in similar tactical gear and armed just as heavily as she was. She handed Tony his pants before whistling loudly and snapping her fingers. The four other SHIELD squad members turned to face her. Ah, Tony thought, Pepper had gotten the promotion she had been talking about after all.

“Alright – we’ve got Stark. Watch the perimeter for targets – We’re not here to drink his beer and raid his fridge,” Pepper said.

Tony recognized three of the people who had broken into his house; he would have been embarrassed if he hadn’t. Pepper and Rhodey had his friends for _years_. Still, that didn’t make it any less shocking to see so many heavily armored people standing in his living room-slash-bedroom, and yeah, sure, he had had filthy dreams about this kind of thing before, but he didn’t exactly go around _collecting_ men and women in body armor in real life. Rhodey rolled his eyes as Tony turned his pants around, searching for the zipper. He waggled his eyebrows; Tony rolled his eyes and smirked right back at him. Pepper and Rhodey looked good. Tony hadn’t seen them in tactical gear in a long time – not since he had taken a fieldtrip to SHIELD to get his security clearance at SI verified; they hadn’t known he was coming that day, and he hadn’t known they would be there until he had run face-first into Pepper’s shoulder. It had been startling, at first, but Pepper’s bright smile had made his nervousness melt away.

Things were a little different today.

Unlike back then, Rhodey’s hair was closely cropped to his head and like the rest of the team, he was dressed in black SHIELD tactical gear that covered him from head to toe; he had a multi-pocketed tool belt around his waist, and was wearing a bulletproof vest overtop of a taupe long-sleeved shirt. His black pants were thick, likely knife and fireproof, and one look at his boots let Tony know that there would be no stomping _playfully_ on his toes – he was wearing steel-toed boots.

Tony positively beamed when he spotted the black goggles hanging around Rhodey’s neck. He knew them well; he had given prototype designs and specs for them to SHIELD as a way of keeping his friends out of trouble, and while he had _technically_ given everything to Pepper and Rhodey, _not_ Fury – SHIELD’s one-eyed, surly, leader – the goggles had made their way into production anyway. Tony doubted that anyone at SI knew about that particular side project. The patent was under a false name, and all the royalties were being funneled into a hidden bank account.

The goggles ran with the help of Jarvis – the same AI Tony used to control the Iron Man Armor; they were smarter than most people’s phones. The AI incorporated into the goggles was far less intelligent than the version of installed in the suit, and unfortunately for Rhodey and Pepper, _their_ Jarvis was self-contained – it couldn’t jump from the glasses to anything else with an intelligent system, like a computer – at least not without Tony’s assistance. The goggles worked as both protective eyewear and guidance technology. They could be used to calculate distances between objects and targets; they could even read heat signatures. They could monitor heart rates too, although most of the time that feature was turned off to prevent the heads-up display from cluttering up. The AI was useful, but it wasn’t a miracle worker; it could provide hints and offer suggestions, but couldn’t really ‘speak’ – not the way the suit’s AI could, at any rate. Tony had designed it to be that way for a reason; he hadn’t wanted SHIELD having that much power even if his friends were working for them.

Tony chuckled to himself. It was a relief to have Rhodey and Pepper here to watch out for him instead of a bunch of faceless, nameless SI grunts; at least they wouldn’t tie him up and throw him in a closet until the danger passed. He had missed them more than he had realized. Between the three of them, their work schedules were frantic and tedious. They had made a promise to keep in touch regularly, but things hadn’t worked out that way. With Rhodey and Pepper enrolled in the SHIELD Special Ops program, there hadn’t been a lot of time for them to get together and hang out except for on the rare weekends when they were all in the same town; SHIELD wasn’t a SI venture – it worked, at least from what Tony had been told – for the government doing the cleanup for jobs that had gone horribly wrong.

Rhodey looked much older than he had the last time Tony had seen him, but he was grinning, and that made a world of difference, especially considering the fact that the other squad member Tony recognized was Tiberius Stone, his ex-boyfriend-slash-ex-friend.

Tiberius looked different too, and while it was vaguely _nice_ to see him still living and breathing, it kind of made Tony want to burst out laughing. For one, Tiberius had grown a beard that looked _suspiciously_ like Tony’s, and while Tiberius’ hair was still honey blond and long enough to tangle your fingers in, it was a bit more salt-and-pepper now. The bastard had obviously tried to dye it, but the grey was showing through.

“Looking _good_ , Tony,” Rhodey wolf-whistled. He winked at Pepper. “You owe me ten bucks, Potts,”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Pepper snorted. She put her hands on her hips, all the while still holding on to the helmet strap. “Alright – we have ten minutes and then we’ve got to get the hell out of here,”

Tony pulled his pants up, and buttoned them, fully aware that he was giving everyone an impromptu show. Right now, underwear didn’t seem so important – not with Tiberius leering at him from across the room; all he wanted was to get dressed. He tugged his shirt over his head and scrounged around for a pair of serviceable socks. “So what’s going on?” he asked as he dug his emergency backpack out from under the bed. Inside the backpack was a copy of every last thing he had worked on at SI, all of it stored on an encrypted USB that was easily stash-able; there were some things he took chances with – his work wasn’t one of them. There was also a jacket, a pair of thick winter gloves and a rolled up bundle of hundred dollar bills packed neatly in the bottom of the bag; those were more recent additions. With snow season coming around, it paid to keep an eye on the weather. He liked his fingers and toes where they were.

“We got called in half an hour ago,” Pepper said, clearing her throat. The other team members turned to face her as though moving on a hidden track. “You know Rhodey and Tiberius. The other two are Romanoff and Barton – Romanoff is our stealth specialist.”

Romanoff, a woman with medium length crimson hair and a deceptively sweet-looking face gave Tony a curt nod; had she not been dressed in tactical gear, he might have thought she was a model who had joined them by accident. He wondered idly if that was part of her job – luring foolish men to their deaths.

“Barton is our marksman,” Pepper continued, nodding to the man with short, spikey brown hair and a smug grin on his face, “If you need something shot, he’s the guy to do it,”

Barton tipped an imaginary hat to Tony. He had a compound bow in hand and a quiver over his shoulder, along with an assortment of guns and knives. He looked ready to take down an army all on his own.

“I see,” Tony drawled. “So what’s Ty doing here? Did you need someone to charm open doors?”

Tiberius sneered and flipped Tony the bird. “Fuck off. I’m not the most useless person here and you know it,”

“I didn’t say you were _useless_ ,” Tony snorted. “I mean, if you need to get someone to drop their pants, you’re the guy, right? I distinctly remember walking in on quite a few people suffering from the aftereffects of your clever fingers,”

Tiberius shrugged. “You didn’t have a problem with my _clever_ fingers back in the day. I remember a lot of screaming on your part – a lot of very _happy_ screaming,”

“That’s true,” Tony said, glaring at Tiberius. “But I sure as hell had a problem with your fingers when they were feeling up someone else while we were still dating,”

“Oh relax, _Anthony_ ,” Tiberius said, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a _crybaby_. I guess time hasn’t changed much. You’re still the same pathetic little whiner,”

Tony tensed. “You’re a fucking _asshole_ ,”

“Both of you – _shut up_ ,” Romanoff said, sharply. She turned to Tiberius, her expression calm and carefully neutral. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on getting us through the front gates?”

Tiberius scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes _ma’am_. I’m on it – although, considering Tony has a keycard and, you know, _security clearance_ , I don’t understand why we can’t just use _him_ to get in,”

Pepper shot Tiberius a dark look, one that on a normal day would have had Tony running for cover. “You’re not _seriously_ suggesting we bring a _civilian_ into a warzone just so we can open a few doors, are you?”

“It’s a _civilian_ building, Potts,” Tiberius grunted. “Besides, are you expecting him to leave his work behind?”

“He has his work with him,” Pepper growled. She narrowed her eyes. “Is there a reason why you’re arguing with your _commanding officer?_ Do you like _pain_ , Ty? Because you’re going to get my boot up your ass if you don’t shut your trap and start following orders,”

“Look, he doesn’t have whatever prototypes he was working on,” Tiberius drawled. “Whatever’s in there could be used against us if Hydra gets their hands on it. Can you imagine the _Winter Soldier_ with one of Tony’s toys? Personally, I’d rather not get a face full of shrapnel because something was left unattended,”

Tony grimaced. He didn’t know who the _Winter Soldier_ was, but the thought of _anyone_ getting their grubby mitts on his work made him sick to his stomach. Corporate espionage was something SI had always worried about; all the big companies had to put up with it to some degree – but Hydra, a corporation that _claimed_ it was involved with Arms Development, was better known for its ‘collection’ skills. They had been around since the forties and were a goddamned _menace_. The competition between corporations was something Tony had only just started paying close attention to, and what he had heard from the security staff made him never want to get within a hundred yards of _anyone_ in the intelligence industry. Hydra’s _Agents_ (as they were known) were a slimy, brutal bunch who took whatever wasn’t nailed down, and while SI’s legal teams took care of the copyright infringement when they caught it, there were rumors that Hydra had different, more _efficient_ , ways of getting what they wanted, aside from corporate espionage. There was talk about tactical swat teams and soldiers – stories about hit men and explosions that had taken out competitors. Tony wasn’t sure if what he had heard was the truth or not, but he was sure starting to believe the rumors.

Pepper sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright. Point taken. We do not want the Winter Soldier with better weapons than us. You’re still going to be scrubbing toilets for a week when we get back,”

“Fine,” Tiberius grumbled. “But I was right. I want that written down in the mission briefing,”

“Tell you want – you can have another gift,” Pepper said. Her smile turned sickeningly sweet. “You’re on point, Stone. You want to be an ass – fine. That’s what you get for it,”

Tiberius groaned and headed towards the door. “Roger that,” he said. He gave Pepper a half-assed salute.

Pepper sighed wearily and shook her head. “Sorry about him. They assigned him to me even though I didn’t want him here,” she said. She patted Tony roughly on the shoulder. “Do you have anything else in here that you want to take with you?”

“No – I’ve got everything I need,” Tony said.

“Alright. Put this on,” Pepper said, handing Tony the helmet.

“Do you think it’s going to be _that_ bad out there?” Tony asked, his eyes widening. He knew the alarms only went off when things had gone to shit, but he hadn’t thought things were going to get _this_ bad. Was there a chance of his apartment being destroyed or ransacked? Didn’t SI have security to stop that kind of thing from happening? For that matter – where the fuck _was_ security? They were supposed to be manning the damned doors!

“It’s going to be _bad_ , Tony,” Rhodey said, checking his gun. “Put on the helmet. It’s nonnegotiable.” He waited until the rest of the team had assembled at the front door and leaned closer to murmurer in Tony’s ear. “They called us in because something got out of containment – something strong,”

_Containment_? Tony swallowed hard and put the helmet on his head, snapping the straps together; his fingers trembled. What the hell was so dangerous in SI that it needed _containing_? Howard hadn’t said anything about it – and Obie hadn’t either.

What the fuck had they been hiding?

 

 

 

Tony hugged his backpack against his chest as they walked towards the facility, glancing nervously over his shoulder every few seconds; it felt like someone was watching him again, although he couldn’t tell who that someone might be. There were a good thousand windows facing him and spotting someone looking at them was highly unlikely. The alarms had long since gone quiet, leaving them with dead airwaves; every so often, the speakers crackled ominously. It was too quiet. Tony could tell by just looking at the main building that something had gone terribly wrong; the power was still on, but it seemed like the facility was using its backups instead of its main generators. The lights weren’t quite right.

Despite ordering Tiberius to take point, Pepper had gone on ahead to help him scout the area; she had thoughtfully left Rhodey by Tony’s side. Despite his company, Tony didn’t feel any safer. The other team members were off scouting and doing their own thing, and they hadn’t exactly seemed cheerful.

“Relax, Tony,” Rhodey said. “We’ll keep you safe.” He slowed down when he noticed that Tony was having trouble keeping up. “Your heart still causing problems?”

“It never _stopped_ ,” Tony panted. His heart was functional, but it wasn’t in great condition. He had been scanned a few weeks prior for the annual physical, and they had given him the delightful news that one day he would need to get a pacemaker in order to keep his ticker going. He prayed that he wouldn’t be needing one any time soon. He wasn’t much of a jogger on a good day, but today the air felt especially heavy, like he was trying to breathe in tar. He paused, leaned forwards and took in a few shallow breaths, trying to calm himself. It was probably just anxiety – nothing to worry about.

“Are you _sure_ you’re ok?” Rhodey asked. “There’s no shame in it if you’re not,”

“I’m fine,” Tony said, straightening up. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs and started walking again. He sagged with relief when he realized that Rhodey was more than happy to stick to the slower pace. “I guess I should have kept going to the gym, huh?” he joked.

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Right – _that’s_ what’s made you so slow – not the long nights and shitty food,”

“The food’s better here than it is at SHIELD,” Tony snorted.

“Nice try,” Rhodey chuckled.

Tony scowled and dug his fingers a little tighter into his backpack straps.

When they reached the main security gates, they found that they were locked out; instead of outright storming the door, like Tony had expected, Pepper gathered the group together and led them behind a clump of prickly bushes, where they could huddle together out of sight. Tony shivered and hugged his backpack closer to his chest, rocking back and forth on his heels. He was an _engineer_ , not a soldier; he wasn’t used to being outdoors. His allergies had always kept him cloistered away. He hoped to god he wasn’t going to start sneezing and draw attention to them all.

“What would you like me to do, Potts?” Tiberius muttered, scowling at the door through a gap in the bushes. “Do you want me to sweet-talk the door or do you want to see if Stark’s pass will get us in?”

Pepper pursed her lips and turned to Tony. She motioned for him to move towards her, her fingers held stiffly. She gave Tony a stern look, locking eyes with him. “Are you up to it?”

“To what?” Tony asked, nervously. “Opening the door? I think I can handle that.”

“Opening the door _alone_ ,” Pepper said.

Tony grimaced. He didn’t want to head _anywhere_ alone, but if Pepper thought he could handle it, he was sure it would be fine. “Ok,” he sighed in defeat.

“It’s settled then. We’ll try the pass first,” Pepper said.

“What do you want me to do?” Tony asked, softly.

“You’re actually letting _him_ hit the door?” Tiberius asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Sure,” Pepper said. She flashed Tiberius a toothy grin. “He’s not a baby. He can open the damn door,” she said. “Besides – they’re less likely to shoot _him_. He’s one of them.”

Tony swallowed around a lump in his throat at the thought of getting shot at by the security team – people he _knew_ ; he had never thought about them being armed before, but he sure as hell was _now_. The guards had more than just a keycard strapped to their belts. Each one was outfitted with a shockgun, a can of mace and a heavy steel-core baton. He had no intention of coming into close contact with _any_ of that if he could help it. He hoped feverishly that if the guards _did_ start attacking, they would pick something non-lethal.

Tony fished his Captain America lanyard out from under his shirt with shaking hands and got moving. His keycard swayed back and forth as he made his way towards the gate with his backpack tucked under his arm; he tried to keep his stride lazy, and let a fake smile settle on his face in case there was still someone manning the security desk. When the motion sensor above the door didn’t chirp at his arrival like it usually did, he knew something was wrong. He peered into the window by the guard office. It looked empty. The chair the guard usually sat on was still upright, but there was some kind of shadow on the floor beneath it and the table. He couldn’t tell why the sight made his stomach twist. Grimacing, Tony tapped his keycard against the card reader. He didn’t expect the door to open, but it did. That didn’t reassure him in the least; in fact, it made him even _more_ uncomfortable.

“Good job, Stark,”

Tony nearly threw himself into the wall when Romanoff touched his shoulder. She eased him over to the side of the doorway and stepped into the building, her weapon held at the ready. He held a hand over his heart; he hadn’t even heard her approach. Barton sauntered in after her, his eyes trained on the open office doors in the distance, where the Clerical Pool normally worked.

“Stay here,” Romanoff ordered Tony. She nodded to Barton and Tiberius and set off to do a sweep of the area. They followed after her without uttering a word of protest.

Pepper and Rhodey herded Tony inside. They skulked along against the wall and left him hidden in the shadow of a vending machine. “Keep your head out of sight,” she ordered. She nodded stiffly to Rhodey. “Let’s go.” They headed down the corridor to inspect the guard’s office with their weapons drawn.

Pepper was an impressive leader, Tony mused. Everyone seemed to know what to do without even being told. He wished he knew what the hell he was supposed to do. Despite building weapons for most of his adult life, he hadn’t ever had a reason to use one in self-defence, and now seemed like a crappy time to learn. He had gone to the target range every once in a while, of course, but he wasn’t all that good at hitting things; if there were targets here, they were going to be moving, and not just in a straight line towards him – he was fairly certain he would hit everything but what he was aiming at.

Tony fidgeted nervously. It didn’t _look_ like anything was amiss; everything was exactly where it had been when he had walked through here last. Who did Pepper think they were going to run into? In the middle of the night, there wasn’t much in the way of foot traffic in SI’s hallways on a good day, so it wasn’t likely they would run into any employees – aside from _maybe_ Bruce and the security team.

Speaking of Bruce…

Tony patted his jacket pocket to see if he had remembered to bring his phone. He was surprised to find it behind a half-torn piece of wrinkled paper. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned down at it. Should he give Bruce a call? He had designed cellphone interceptors for SI and he knew that the company had a few lying around in case of emergencies; _anyone_ could listen in. Was it worth the risk?

Pepper returned; her expression was grim. “We’re too late,” she said. She gestured for Tony to move closer and stood in front of him, blocking him from sight. Rhodey shifted closer but remained up against the wall with his gun aimed towards the elevator even though it remained silent and still.

“The door guard is dead,” Pepper said, flatly.

It felt like someone had poured a bucket of molasses over Tony’s head. “What?” he croaked. “They killed _Andy_?” How could someone have killed Andy? The guy was a total goofball – he wouldn’t have hurt a fly. Sure, he was a little strict with visitors, but he wasn’t an asshole.

“Someone shot him in the point blank head and stashed him under the desk so no one would notice he was missing from his post,” Pepper said. Her gaze softened when she saw Tony’s dismayed expression. “I’m sorry, Tony, but we don’t have time to do anything for him. We need to move,”

Tony nodded numbly.

“You need to listen to what we say, alright?” Pepper said. She slung her rifle over her shoulder and put her hands on Tony’s shoulders, her grip firm. “Are you with me?”

“Right – _yes_ ,” Tony mumbled. “Yes – just tell me what to do,”

“ _Potts_ ,” Romanoff called out as she reappeared. She was moving fast and had her goggles on; Tony could only see the lower half of her face. “We’ve got a situation,” Romanoff said.

Pepper dropped her arms to her sides, letting Tony go and slid her rifle back into her hands. “Report,”

“There are ten dead bodies back there,” Romanoff said, matter-of-factly. “Whoever got in ahead of us is executing everyone they find,”

“ _Shit_ ,” Rhodey said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “These assholes are killing _paper-pushers_? Jesus – that’s just cruel,”

“Barton’s gone on ahead to scout,” Romanoff said. “He’s pretty sure he recognizes the wet work, but he wants to get a look at the bastards before he confirms anything,”

Pepper sighed. “Alright.” She turned to Tony and pulled a comm out of her pocket. She pressed it into his hand. “Put that in. We need to get going and I don’t want to lose track of you,”

Tony fumbled the comm into his ear and hugged his backpack a little tighter.

Rhodey pulled the pistol off of his belt and handed it to Tony. “You know how to use this, right?”

Tony nodded stiffly and took the gun. “I make them for a living – I know how to use them,”

“Let me correct myself – you know how to use it without killing yourself or one of us, right?” Rhodey asked, quirking a smile.

“I know how to use it,” Tony grumbled. He might not use a gun every day like they did, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew how not to shoot himself in the foot – at least he was pretty sure he did.

“Ok, I trust you. You can shoot the enemy all you want, so just keep that in mind,” Rhodey said, turning to face the elevator again. He pursed his lips and turned his attention to his comm. “Hey, Barton – what’s the status of the security cameras?”

“ _Unknown_ ,” Barton’s voice rang out through the comms. “They’re still functional from the looks of them, but I don’t think anyone’s watching considering I just kicked my way through a door and no one came running. I’m thinking the hit squad is up ahead, but I can’t tell how far they’ve made it into the building. I think we’re going to need to take this floor by floor, preferably _today_ , if you guys don’t mind. No rush or anything,”

“You heard him,” Pepper growled. “Let’s go. Move it people!” She snapped her fingers at Tony. “Get that backpack on or get used to the idea of it being gone,”

Tony wobbled his way around a potted fern and slung his backpack over his shoulders; he was suddenly extremely glad he had invested in the backpack instead of a duffle bag. This way he had his hands free, and if worse came to worse, he could use the backpack as a pseudo-shield. He was starting to wish he had done more work on plain old body armor in his spare time. Why hadn’t he done that again? It seemed like something he should have been focusing on, considering he didn’t like the mere _notion_ of being shot at – let alone actually _being_ shot at.

“Quit looking like you’re going to have to do this all on your own. It’ll be _fine_ , Stark,” Tiberius grunted, reappearing from the offices. He wiped his gloved hand on the fern, smearing its leaves with something that looked far too blood-like for Tony’s comfort. He held up a keycard. “I got us a spare,” he said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Is that what I think it is?” Tony blurted, his voice still hoarse. He couldn’t stop staring at the fern.

Tiberius snorted. “Well, it’s not _paint_ , if that’s what you’re asking,”

Tony took a sharp breath in through his nose. It was one thing to _hear_ about bodies – it was another to see the evidence of them. He hurried along as Pepper and Rhodey waved him towards the stairwell and prayed that they wouldn’t run into anyone living or dead on the way up.

 

 

The stairwell was well-lit; they took the stairs two at a time then stopped at the fire door where Romanoff and Tiberius took point. Tony hung back with Rhodey when Pepper slipped out into the hallway and disappeared after them a few minutes later.

Tony shuddered. It was strange to think of SI as a hostile warzone. He had been on this floor this morning to photocopy a handout for a meeting with the production team; he had never though he would be afraid of wandering _these_ halls, yet now his stomach was roiling and his knees felt like they were made of rubber. He held the gun level with his shoulder, aiming carefully at the closed door in case someone tried to push their way through; there was a slight tremor to his hand, but there was nothing he could do about it. He would have been embarrassed if it was anyone other than Rhodey seeing him shaking in his boots.

Rhodey smiled at Tony and nodded to the gun. “That works better when the safety’s turned off,” he said.

Scowling, Tony flicked off the safety. “Thanks,”

“No problem,” Rhodey chuckled. He patted Tony’s shoulder. “We’ve all done it the first time out. You’ll get used to it,”

“God I hope not,” Tony muttered under his breath.

Pepper’s voice was soft when it came in through the comm; it still made Tony flinch. “We’re going to need to split up,” she said. “Romanoff – Barton, take Stone up with you and use his keycard to scout ahead. We need someone to engage the enemy and draw them away from the scientists on the upper floors. We need to get survivors out if we can. Rhodey, get Tony up here. We going to have to tear through some security gates and he’s handy with electronics. We’re in the copy room at the end of the hall,”

Rhodey nodded to Tony. “We’re heading in now. Anything I should warn him about?”

“He’s not going to like what he sees,” Romanoff’s voice echoed through the comm. “It’s a mess in here. The night staffing was minimal, like we expected, but the hit squad didn’t let anyone get away. I’m counting five bodies – and, ah, yes, a half in the bathroom. I don’t know where the fuck the torso is, but I know where it _isn’t_ ,”

“I’ve got eyes on it,” Barton said. “Looks like someone took him for a little walk.”

Tony gagged and covered his mouth.

Rhodey led him down the hall; they took a left and snuck through two rows of cubicles, keeping their heads down. Tony avoided looking at anything other than the few feet of floor in front of him. Despite that, he could see bloody spots in the carpet and the grey cubicle walls. They turned the corner again. Something dark and human-shaped was lying on the floor a row to their left. Beside it, there was a hand clutching at the cubicle wall; Tony refused to look too closely.

The copy room was blessedly empty aside from Pepper, but there was a bloody handprint on the wall over top of the Xerox machine and it looked fresh. Whoever had made the mark was long gone. Pepper waved them closer and nodded to the security gate blocking the door behind her. Tony had repaired over thirty five of these gates while on call for maintenance; they had a tendency to get stuck when dropped quickly.

“Think you can get it open?” Pepper asked.

Tony dropped down to his knees and shuffled himself closer to the lower left-hand corner of the gate. Ah good. It was stuck – not locked. “Can you find me a ballpoint pen?” he asked.

Rhodey toed open a cupboard and rooted around amidst a stack of colourful copy paper. He came up with a Bic pen and handed it off to Tony. “I’m assuming this will do,” he said, dryly.

“Perfect,” Tony said. He pulled the cap off the pen and jammed it tip-first into a tiny hole at the bottom of the gate. With a groan, the gate started rising up. Tony pulled the pen free and capped it, stuffing it into his pocket in case he needed it later. He dusted off his hands and framed the doorway with his hands. “Voila!”

Pepper scowled. “You’re _kidding_ – that’s all it takes to open these things?” She looked like she wanted to kick the gate.

“Sometimes its easy to get them going again,” Tony said, shrugging, “It takes a little bit more than that when the gate’s actually _locked_ – this one was jammed. I’d need a hell of a lot more tools to get through one that was actually locked.”

“Right. I can see where this is going,” Rhodey chuckled. “Let me guess – you want your tool kit,”

“I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on it,” Tony agreed.

Pepper sighed. “Where is it?”

“It’s upstairs, locked up with the rest of the maintenance crap,” Tony said. He eyed the gate and shook his head. If the gates were down, the floors were going to be tricky to navigate. “Do you think we’ve got time to get it?” he asked.

“If you think it’ll get us through the rest of this place _that_ easily, we’ll _make_ the time,” Pepper said with a soft smile.

 

 

They moved quickly down the hall, bypassing the rest of the security gates, and ducked into the closest stairwell, heading up to the next floor.

The attack was so quick, Tony almost didn’t realize what had happened until it was over. He found himself knocked to the floor by a stoic-looking Rhodey; he cringed as he heard bullets flying above his head and the screams of the men as Pepper took them down. He crawled his way across the floor, keeping his head down and huddled beside a blue recycling bin with his gun clutched tightly in hand.

The room fell silent.

“ _Report_ ,” Pepper barked. She didn’t wait for a response before moving again. She kicked the rifle away from one of the dead attackers and bent down, inspecting the woman’s uniform. She wiped the blood off the insignia stitched into the body armor’s padded shoulder.

“We’re alright,” Rhodey said, helping Tony up. “I’m not hearing any moans or groans, so I think we got everyone.” He dusted Tony off, and gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. “You did good, Tones,”

“Sure,” Tony muttered, giving his head a shake. “Yeah - right. Whatever you say.” He glanced around the room and forced himself to look at the carnage around him even though it made him sick to his stomach. There was blood and bodies everywhere; every wall he could see was peppered with bullet holes. Their attackers were lying prone in defeat; one of the attackers was even hanging off of an upstairs balcony, drooped over the glass divider like some kind of badly designed party decoration. Somehow, in the all the chaos, the glass had remained safe from harm.

“I’m thinking this is Hydra’s work,” Pepper said, standing up. She gave the corpse beside her a nudge with her boot so she could roll it over and whistled loudly. “ _Christ_ ,” she said. “They’re not even bothering to hide it.” She pointed to the badge stitched into the dead soldier’s chest. There, emblazoned in white thread, was a skull-headed octopus with curled tentacles.

“We’re going to need to be more careful,” Rhodey grunted. “There’s probably more where these assholes came from,”

Pepper tapped at her comm. “We’ve got confirmation of Hydra in the building,” she said. “Five dead – no commanders and from the looks of it, no civilian survivors to be expected. They’re running fast and dark.”

Romanoff’s voice was calm. “You’re wrong,”

Pepper stiffened. “Are they sending in Collections Agents, or are they already here?”

“They’re already here. Barton saw them drop down onto a balcony a minute and a half ago. He thinks they’re looking for someone in particular but he can’t say who. He’s advising we move faster,” Romanoff said.

“Roger that – we’re moving up to the maintenance floor. We’re going to grab Tony’s toolkit,” Rhodey said.

“Alright,” Romanoff said. “Do me a favor – if Stark’s been building anything good, tell him to grab it and get hell out of here. By the looks of things, Hydra’s not going to leave anything for the SI Sweep Team.” Romanoff’s comm fell silent.

Pepper nodded to Tony. “You heard the lady,” she said. “Anything you want to get out of here?”

“What?” Tony said. He felt like the ground had rolled under his feet. He braced himself against the wall beside him and then flinched away when he realized he had put his hand in blood. He wiped at the wall with his palm, trying to get rid of the blood.

“Why the fuck did they call the Sweep Team in?” Rhodey muttered, shaking his head.

“Sweep Team?” Tony felt lightheaded. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, but it didn’t make things any better. Instead, it felt as if it had made his vision _worse_. There was blurry ring around the world now, and he didn’t like that one bit.

“The Sweep Team is Hydra’s way of covering up their presence. They’re here for body collection and disposal – they’re the guys who run around with flamethrowers burning any information they don’t want getting out,” Pepper growled. “Those fuckers have taken out entire _buildings_ just to keep people from knowing they were there,”

“ _Buildings_?” Tony rasped. He leaned up against the wall again, finding a clean patch, and rubbed at his eyes again. The lights above him flickered. He turned, wondering if he had stepped on something, and saw a familiar blond man further down the hall; it was Steve – it _had_ to be Steve. Before Tony could call out to him, Steve was gone.

“Tony?” Pepper grabbed Tony by the strap of his backpack. “What’s wrong?”

“ _Potts_?” Rhodey sounded nervous. He pointed to a set of bloody footprints that lead off into the empty hallway. “Were those there before? Or am I seeing things?”

“I think that was Steve,” Tony croaked.

Rhodey frowned. “Who the fuck is _Steve_?”

“Bruce told me he wasn’t real,” Tony murmured, squeezing his eyes shut. He clenched his fists. Those footsteps looked pretty goddamned real – and if Rhodey could see them, then they were definitely there. This wasn’t a hallucination – unless, of course, they were sharing one. Was that possible? Could they be seeing things?

“Tony,” Pepper said, calmly, “ _Who_ is Steve?”

“Steve Rogers was part of Project: Rebirth,” Tony said. “He’s still here, I think. He’s in the building, wandering the halls,”

Pepper’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Howard was making Super Soldiers with his pal Erskine’s help,” Tony said, gnawing on his lower lip. “That’s what Bruce said. He said their best subject died. Steve’s gone – the files say he’s _dead_ ,”

“From what I remember Erskine was a Hydra target,” Pepper murmured. She snapped her fingers. “ _Jesus_ – that must be what they’re here for. Hydra must be looking for serum samples,”

“Or surviving test subjects,” Tony said, grimly. “Maybe Steve’s not really as dead as Bruce thought he was.” He glance down the hallway, looking past Steve’s bloody footprints at the mangled remains of a security gate. “I think we’re going to need a lot more than just my tool kit to get out of here.”

“I’m thinking we’re going to need a fucking _tank_ ,” Rhodey grumbled. “But we’ll take what we can get. What do you have in your workshop right now, Tony?”

Tony’s worry melted away. He grinned. “You’re in luck. If you can get me up those stairs, I have something even _better_ than a tank,”

 

 

They jumped six Hydra soldiers when they stepped out onto the next floor. Maintenance had locked everything away for the night, and with the security gates up, there wasn’t much space to move around; the Hydra soldiers went down hard and fast. They didn’t have time to call for backup or report in.

Pepper and Rhodey led the way to the first wall of security gates and stood guard while Tony worked his magic on the locks. Once the gates gave way, they darted through the halls, stopping only to scout around the corners and into the rooms they passed. No one was around; the lack of blood was both heartening and disturbing. Tony knew that there were three people up here every night – there was _always_ staff on call in Maintenance – so where were they? Howard had instituted a policy years ago that stated that broken equipment needed to be repaired immediately, even if it was the middle of the night. Some things just couldn’t wait, Howard had insisted. Tony wondered where the staff had ended up. Had they fled to a higher floor? Or had they been caught while out on-call, trying to fix some poor bastard’s AC unit?

Pepper took point and led them towards the Maintenance Lockup, following Tony’s whispered directions. They made it to the first security checkpoint in time for the lights to flicker and then die. Tony took a sharp breath in through his nose and counted backwards from fifty in his head, trying not to panic. It was fine. The security checkpoint in front of him was still drawing power; he could tell by the way the locking mechanism was still lit up. It was fine. The lights were off – that was all. It was fine. Slowly, Tony reached out and slid his keycard through the card reader.

The door sprang open with a shrill beep.

“Did everything just go dark for you too? Or are we just special?” Romanoff asked through the comms.

“Nope – sorry Romanoff, you’re not special,” Rhodey said. “I take it this is building wide blackout?”

“ _Bingo_ ,” Barton grunted. “It would have been nice if we had had some warning. My fucking _toe_ would have appreciated it,”

Pepper reached out and caught Tony by the shoulder strap of his backpack before he could step through the security gate. “Hold on. Can you fix the lights?”

Tony shook his head. “They’re running off backup generators. Those aren’t designed to kick in unless the main power grid is shot to shit. I’d have to go into the basement to even attempt to fiddle with anything, and I don’t think we have time to backtrack _that_ far,”

“Great,” Rhodey muttered. He opened the breast pocket on his tactical vest and snapped a circular disk in place; light burst through the darkness. “I guess it’s a good thing they always make us wear flashlights in training,” he said.

Pepper set up her own light and smiled ruefully. “You know, I always _hated_ this thing. I was planning on leaving it in transport by _accident_. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t,”

“Do you have one for me?” Tony asked, hopefully.

“Sorry, Tony, I’ve only got the one,” Pepper said. She kept her fingers clamped on Tony’s sleeve as she guided him through the darkness. “We’ll have to pick something up on the way. There are supplies in maintenance, right? They’ve got to have flashlights in there somewhere,”

“Yeah,” Tony grumbled. “There are a few. I guess I can hold out for a little while,”

“What’s wrong, Tony?” Rhodey teased. “Scared of the dark?”

“ _No_ ,” Tony grumbled sullenly. He tucked his gun into the waistband of his pants after turning the safety on again; there was no point in having it out when he couldn’t even see a foot in front of himself. He didn’t want to accidentally shoot Pepper or Rhodey in the ass; if he did, he’d never hear the end of it.

Rhodey took point this time, his flashlight bobbing with every step he took. Tony kept close, afraid to move too far away from the light. He felt like something was watching him again and this time he had a sneaking suspicion that it was Steve. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Was Steve on their side? Or was he something worse than Hydra?

They reached Maintenance Lockup without incident; the room was quiet until Tony slipped his keycard into the card reader. The soft beep made Tony tense, and it was a good thing he had, because if he hadn’t, he might have been hit in the head with a mop.

The night janitor fell forwards, smashing Tony in the shoulder. The added weight sent Tony tumbling to the ground on his back like an upended turtle. He flailed about, shoving at the man when he realized the guy was dead but couldn’t get the man’s body to move. “Get it off,” he rambled. “ _Get it off, get it off,_ _get it off_ ,”

“Hold on,” Pepper said, soothingly. “We’ve got you. Hold on.” She and Rhodey rolled the body off of Tony while he lay shuddering.

As soon as Tony was free, he crawled out of the way and leaned forwards, gagging as his stomach decided to try and vacate his body entirely. His shirt was covered in cold, sticky blood. He looked around feverishly for something to wipe himself down with, but that only made things worse. The man who had landed on him had left a bloody puddle where he had landed.

“I guess that explains where everyone went,” Rhodey said with a whistle, shining his light into the Maintenance Lockup. Four dead faces were lit up, seemingly pulled from the darkness. Two of the men didn’t immediately appear as though they had been in a fight although judging by the empty look in their eyes they were clearly dead. The other two were more obviously injured; one was missing part of his shoulder and the other looked like he had tried to drag himself back into the room with one severely damaged hand. A quick scan of the blood-streaked floor made it clear that the Maintenance crew had come in through a second entrance – one that was now barricaded with boxes and cleaning equipment.

“Shit,” Tony muttered, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He moved cautiously, stepping over one of the bodies to get at a roll of paper towel that had been left out. He didn’t want to put names to faces; he didn’t want to even _look_ at their faces. He wiped frantically at his stomach, sopping up as much blood as he could, using up half the roll in the process and then grabbed his tool kit from its place on a shelf. He strapped the tool belt around his waist with trembling, bloodstained fingers and fumbled open the tool kit. Everything was still in its place; he relaxed marginally, and realized that he was wheezing. He closed his eyes and tried to collect himself, listening to his heart as it hammered in his ears. The tool kit was heavy and solid enough to be a good weapon in close combat, he reminded himself. The lock was sturdy too, so he didn’t need to worry about losing his tools if he did need to use it. He gave it a tentative swing and let out a shaky breath.

“You ok?” Pepper asked.

Tony nodded.

Rhodey smiled gently. “Preparing for war?”

“Why not?” Tony murmured. “Seems like we’re already in one. Might as well make sure we’re prepared.”

“Fair enough,” Rhodey said. He glanced around the room, a hand resting on his hip, and picked up a first aid bag that had been piled up amidst the supplies that had been used to barricade the door. He slung it over his shoulder. “I’m thinking we might need this,”

“I sure hope not,” Tony said.

Pepper rummaged around in the teetering tower of supplies stacked in the doorway and popped open a plastic container. She pulled out a heavy-looking flashlight. She turned it on and grinned when the beam completely obliterated every last trace of darkness. She tossed the flashlight to Tony. “Don’t say I never gave you anything,” she said.

Tony caught the flashlight and nearly dropped it. He grimaced and turned the light off. “Thanks, but I’d rather _not_ see this stuff,”

“Agreed,” Rhodey grumbled. He peeked through the door they had come in through, his rifle held at the ready; he slowly stepped out into the hallway. “We’re still clear, but I’m getting the distinct impression that we need to start moving again. Which floor did you say security was on?”

“Floor four,” Tony said, determinedly stepping over a pool of blood. He eased himself out into the hallway beside Rhodey and flattened himself against the wall. The light Rhodey’s flashlight was casting seemed almost too bright.

Tony worried on his lower lip.

Could someone else see their light?

Did it really matter? If Hydra agents could get through the building in silence, they might already be up in the Security Centre, peering down on them from a hundred different camera angles. Did that mean they were walking into a trap? Whatever the case, they needed to move fast and to keep under the radar; he might not have any army training, but he knew that much. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed them, and he was pretty sure he would prefer being notice when he was far, _far_ out of range of enemy guns. He hoped that Romanoff and Barton were as good as Pepper and Rhodey seemed to think they were.

 

 

They made their way up to the next floor, and found that the door at the top of the stairwell was jammed. Try as he might, Tony couldn’t get the door opened; the locks were easy as pie to disengage, but the door was another story. Someone must have barricaded it shut from the other side, because it wasn’t moving an inch. Tony wasn’t all that angry. After all, chances were it wasn’t _Hydra_ leaving barricades everywhere. Someone might still be alive in the higher floors after all. Tony ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. They needed another way up and fast.

“Alright – how would you go about getting between floors if, say, the power was out and all the gates were locked,” Pepper asked, turning to Tony.

Tony frowned and drummed his fingers on the lid of his tool kit. “There are plenty of options,”

“But,” Pepper said. “I’m sensing a _but_ here,”

“Well, for one you’d have to either cut a hole in the floor or climb up through a window,” Tony said. “It’s all fairly self-contained up there. No one wanted it to be easy for strangers to access their labs,”

“What about the balconies,” Rhodey asked. “Are they an option?”

“The only floor with a balcony is Howard’s,” Tony said, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t need to climb onto it anyway. It’s already at the top of the building,”

“Great,” Pepper muttered.

Rhodey frowned. “A place like this needs fire doors, or a whole lot of people are going to die.”

“Sadly, they are on other side of the building,” Tony said. “Where, presumably, Romanoff and the rest of the team are.”

“Fantastic,” Rhodey said. He turned to Pepper. “So what do you want to do?”

“We need to get into the Security Centre,” Pepper grunted. “After that, I think we’re going to have to think of a new plan,”

“Agreed,” Rhodey said, nodding slowly. “So,” he said, turning to Tony. “Thoughts?”

“Well, the building needs a hell of a lot of power power to maintain the security centre,” Tony reasoned. “Where there are wires, there are maintenance shafts. I’ve never had to repair anything between the floors before, but it stands to reason that they would need to leave space for workmen to come in and fix things. Security’s pretty useless when it doesn’t work,”

“Alright – so we’re going to need to find an access shaft. Lead the way, maintenance man,” Pepper said.

Tony smiled weakly. “Right – on it,”

 

They made their way through the empty halls, weaving in and out of the hallways so they couldn’t become trapped. They were alone; the Hydra agents lurking in the building were nowhere to be seen, and while that was a frightening thought, it meant that they were safe for now.

The comms remained silent. Romanoff and the rest of her team had either taken down their enemies quickly, or they hadn’t run into any major problems.

Tony peered into offices as they moved, measuring out feet as he went; he knew where the cafeteria ended and where the Security Centre began, so it wasn’t too difficult to get his bearings, even if they were up above his head. He checked the ceiling panels for thickness, knowing that the maintenance tunnels would be hidden by larger, heavier tiles. Five rooms later, he found what he was looking for. He and Rhodey pushed a table over so he could pull the panels down.

Pepper grinned up at Tony. “Nice job,”

“Hey,” Tony said, pulling down the ladder built into the ceiling, “What can I say? I’m good at what I do,”

Rhodey chuckled and prodded Tony in the back. “Alright cool-guy,” he said. “I’ll take point.”

“You don’t even know what the pathways look like,” Tony grumbled.

“And neither do you,” Pepper chuckled, rapping her knuckles on Tony’s helmet.

Tony scowled. “Alright – fine.” He watched sullenly as Rhodey disappeared up into the ceiling. After a few tense seconds, Rhodey’s hand reappeared.

“We’re good to go,” Rhodey called out.

Tony clambered up the ladder and handed Rhodey his tool kit so he could wiggle his way through the hatch. It was a tight squeeze, but it was better than wading through blood and bodies. He pushed his tool kit further into the vent and crawled along on his hands and knees, keeping his movements short and precise. Pepper climbed up through the hatch behind them. She kicked the table out of the way and pulled the ladder up before tucking the ceiling tile back into place. From below, it would look like they had never been there to begin with.

Tony cocked an eyebrow.

“Let the bastards find their own way up,” she said with a smirk. “Move it, Stark. We can’t sit here all damn day,”

Tony gave Pepper a tired smile and started crawling again, pushing his tool kit in front of him.

They navigated through the tunnels using the cables above them as their map, mindful of the grating they were crawling across and the noise it made. After a ten minute crawl, they came to a fork in the tunneling. Tony lifted himself up on his elbows and tried to peer around Rhodey’s massive shoulders. He leaned forwards and sniffed the air.

“Did you just _sniff_ me?” Rhodey asked, wrinkling his nose. “I like you, man, but I don’t like you that much,”

“I didn’t sniff _you_ ,” Tony said. He pointed to the right-hand side of the tunnel. “That’s cafeteria I’m smelling – we’re going to want the other way,”

“Figures,” Rhodey snorted. “It’s a good thing you always go hunting for food,”

“We better make sure no one leaves coffee under a vent, or we’ll be going in circles forever,” Pepper drawled.

“Very funny,” Tony snorted. “Do they pay you a bonus if you make stupid jokes?”

“Sometimes,” Rhodey said. “It depends on the joke,”

They continued along, their hands and knees thumping against the metal vents, until they came to a new ladder. The venting here continued vertically, and while it was still a tight squeeze, it wasn’t too hard to maneuver into position on the new ladder’s rungs, even with a tool kit and two rifles in their way.

“I take it we’re going up?” Rhodey whistled, peering up into the darkened tunnel. His flashlight beam bounced off of the vent’s walls.

“I’m thinking yes,” Tony agreed.

They climbed in darkness, flashlight beams bobbing slowly, taking the ladder rungs one at a time to muffle their steps on the off-chance that someone below could hear them. Tony hadn’t taken this long to climb up a ladder since he had injured his ankle years ago; in the dark, the climb seemed endless.

 

 

Sweating, nervous and with stiff muscles, they climbed out of the vent and found themselves in a small darkened room with a locked door. Tony shined his flashlight around, taking in their surroundings. There were boxes of toilet paper and paper plates stacked up against the wall, and every inch of available space had cleaning supplies crammed into it. This wasn’t the room they had been hoping for.

Rhodey pushed boxes out of his way; the light on his shoulder cast eerie shadows on the wall. “ _This is the right way, Rhodey_ ,” he said, his voice high pitched and whiny. “It’s _this_ way Rhodey. My ass it’s this way,”

Tony scowled. “Yeah, _yeah_ ,”

“At least we’re on the right floor,” Pepper said. She tapped her comm and stood up, dusting her knees off as Rhodey continued to shove boxes out of their way. “Report,” she said.

It took five minutes for Barton to radio in. He sounded breathless and a little like he was trying to hide pain. “Sorry, Boss. We ran into a Hydra raiding party. Couldn’t radio in,” he murmured.

“Are you alright?” Pepper asked. She checked over her weapon, her eyes locked door in front of her.

Rhodey pushed the last box out of the way and stood up. He glanced over at Pepper, listening in through the comms and began to scout the room from where he was standing; he eyed everything suspiciously, all the while tapping his rifle against his palm.

“We’re alright – for the most part,” Barton grumbled. “There’s some weird shit going on in here, guys,”

“Define _weird_ ,” Tony said, slowly.

“There’s a boney-looking blond guy wandering the halls – _sometimes_ ,” Barton said.

“Sometimes? What do you mean _sometimes_?” Pepper said, her brow furrowing.

“He disappears on us,” Romanoff said. Her voice was calm over the comm, unlike Barton’s. “He just pops up. One minute he’s there, the next he’s gone. He walked through an office while we were checking for intruders – attracted their attention and then did something. We’re not sure what, but the Hydra team looked like they were torn apart by some kind of blast. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Shit – _Steve_ did that?” Tony slumped forwards. He had hoped that Steve wasn’t _dangerous_. Yeah, the guy was a little weird – but he hadn’t looked _homicidal_.

“ _Steve_?” Tiberius’s voice was cold. “You _know_ this freak?”

“He’s not a freak,” Tony snapped.

“He’s in one of SI’s projects,” Pepper said. “He was their first Super Soldier,”

“ _Shit_ ,” Tiberius barked out a laugh. “You’re _kidding_. I thought that guy was _dead_ ,”

“So did everyone else, but apparently he’s still kicking,” Rhodey said.

“What the fuck did they expect a Super Soldier to _do_?” Barton said, “I mean, _super_ is kind of a broad term, but damn – I thought they’d be looking for super strength, not super _crazy_ ,”

“He’s not crazy,” Tony muttered. “He’s just lost,”

“Lost? _That_ guy isn’t lost. _That_ guy is looking for people to rip apart with his _mind_ , man,” Barton growled. “If we hadn’t been hiding behind a wall, he would have killed us too.”

“Steve’s not like that,” Tony growled. “He’s a good guy,”

“You’re acting like he’s actually alive,” Tiberius snorted. “The Super Soldier project _failed_ , Stark. They scrapped him for parts – didn’t you know?”

“Bruce didn’t say anything about that,” Tony said, softly. Bruce had told him the truth; they were close friends, and he trusted Bruce with his life. The guy had never lied to him before, and even if Bruce _had_ lied, Tony couldn’t see Howard Stark scrapping something _he_ had completed for parts. He gave his head a shake. Tiberius was just being a jackass – as usual. He had to remember not to listen to him so closely; things always ended badly when he listened to Tiberius.

“Bruce _who_?” Tiberius snorted. “One of your little peon worker friends? He probably didn’t _know_ the truth,”

“Shut your trap, Stone,” Rhodey growled. “How the fuck would you know what Tony’s friend may or may not know? Are you fucking _psychic_ now?”

Tiberius chuckled darkly. “I have friends in high places,”

“What the fuck does _that_ mean, rich boy?” Barton grunted.

“Worry about _Hydra_ , Barton,” Tiberius snapped. “We’ve got enemies incoming,”

The comms fell silent.

Pepper scowled. “Well, at least we know they’re alive,”

“For now,” Tony muttered.

Rhodey shrugged. “They’ll be fine. If we’re lucky, Stone’ll get shot.”

“Less chatting, more _hustle_ , boys,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes. She pressed her ear to the door and listened warily for signs of someone on the other side. She pulled back and tried the handle. She shook her head and turned away from the door, rounding on Tony. “Stark,” she said, “I think you got us stuck in a glorified broom closet,”

“ _Relax_ , Pep,” Tony grumbled, motioning for her to get out of the way, “I’ve got this.” He pulled open his tool kit and took out a set of screwdrivers – a set he had squirreled away in his kit after being called one too many times to get at a finicky screw. The screwdriver set was far more useful than most people knew. He had learned how to get into locked rooms _years_ ago using them; it had practically been a prerequisite to learn engineering in his house. It wasn’t like Howard had let him anywhere near his work – or anyone else’s work, for that matter. All of the good books had been locked away in Howard’s study; he hadn’t really had much of a choice. The lock clicked. Tony grinned up at Pepper and put his screwdrivers back. “There, see? We’re _fine_ ,”

Rhodey chuckled and maneuvered Tony out of the doorway. “Alright, champ. You win this round,”

“I win _every_ round,” Tony said. He hung back by a stack of boxes as Rhodey threw open the door.

Pepper put a hand on Tony’s shoulder when he tried to follow Rhodey out. “Wait for him to clear it,” she murmured.

Tony sighed. He kept forgetting that this wasn’t just a normal day at the office; it still didn’t quite feel real. “Sorry,” he said.

“Not your fault,” Pepper said. “It’s not exactly like they gave you training in this,”

“They probably should have,” Tony huffed out a laugh. “Do you guys get called in to do this kind of stuff a lot?”

“Not really,” Pepper said. “We’ve been on a few missions, but they were mostly bag-and-tags. We went in, found our target and got out. They don’t like leaving us in the field for too long,”

“They don’t trust you?” Tony asked.

“They don’t want to lose us,” Pepper said. “We cost too much to train.”

Rhodey reappeared, nodding sharply to Pepper. She nodded back before motioning for Tony to head out into the darkness with her.

Tony wasn’t surprised to find himself in the cafeteria kitchen; he was, however, surprised to find that someone had left the place a mess. The floor here was tiled for easier clean-up; it was slippery with soapy water. Mindful of the mess, they crept through the room so they could peer through the open service window where someone had stacked clean plastic trays. From there they could see the entire cafeteria. Strictly speaking, the cafeteria was the cleanest but ugliest place in SI. The spacious room was painted in beige and salmon pink, and the tables were a hideous eggshell-white; no one had been able to figure out why that particular colour scheme had been picked, but Tony had his suspicions that it had been picked to keep people from sticking around. This morning they had served eggs benedict and hashbrowns with béarnaise sauce; there wouldn’t be any food served here again – not any time soon.

Tony’s flashlight beam wavered; he bumped into a metal rolling table and dropped his flashlight. Startled by the sudden bang, he scrambled to pick it up and ended up chasing it across the floor.

Rhodey snagged Tony by the arm before he could stumble out into the open like a newborn deer on unsteady legs. The flashlight rolled over and over until it hit a chair. Tony didn’t like what the light illuminated. The cafeteria tables were splattered with blood. There were thick plastic containers lying in stacks around the room as though dumped there in a hurry; some of the containers were empty, while others were filled with rifles and grenades – all of it was SI Tech.

The serving tables that were still standing were littered with communication equipment – most of which was actively sparking. Someone had clearly tried to set up a command centre.

There were bodies all over the place, and it wasn’t just Hydra agents who had died here; someone had taken the time to kill the cafeteria staff in a neat and tidy line. A young woman lying in front of the salad bar had a bullet in her head and a plastic tray resting on her chest. Tony couldn’t see her face, but he recognized her shoes. Behind him, water gurgled. He turned around in a slow circle, feeling faint. The water was still running in two of the sinks; it was dripping down the counter and onto the floor. He turned back to the service window, gagged when he caught sight of the poor woman by the salad bar and let Pepper steer him over to the sink. He dry heaved over a pile of dirty plates and let out a strangled cry, squeezing his eyes shut. What the fuck had these people done to deserve _this_? _Fuck_ – it was Cheryl and Anna-Maria! He _knew_ them; they were good people! He had known it was going to be bad, but he had though that there might be hope. The doors had been barricaded down below! It had looked like the staff had been on the ball – but apparently that had been wishful thinking. Hydra had moved far faster than they had expected.

Pepper rubbed gentle circles on Tony’s back. “You alright?”

Tony shook his head and continued to dry heave. He turned the tap off and hung over the edge of the sink, staring at himself in the metal basin as the water swirled away down the drain. He wasn’t so sure he would _ever_ be alright – not after seeing something like this.

“We need to check out the room,” Pepper murmured softly into Tony’s ear. “Stay here, alright? Try not to get seen, and for god’s sake, if _you_ see someone, _hide_ ,”

Tony nodded weakly.

Rhodey and Pepper walked out into the cafeteria, taking their search one step at a time; they didn’t lower their weapons even once. The massacre around them looked like it had been over for a while. The blood hadn’t quite dried all the way, but everything else seemed abandoned. Someone had cleared out of here fast. The question was where they had gone.

“Do you recognize any of the badges?” Rhodey asked Pepper through the comms. He hovered beside a table piled high with fully loaded rifle clips and rolled one of the dead fighters over with his boot. He frowned down at the man in displeasure.

“You _found_ one? What does it look like?” Pepper muttered through the comm. “All I’m seeing here is a lot of blank shoulder space. I think someone’s been around with a box cutter. The fabric’s torn to hell,”

“Come here and see for yourself,” Rhodey said. He waved her over.

Pepper paused, glancing back at the kitchen. “Hold on. I’m going to go get Tony.”

“Roger that,” Rhodey said.

Pepper strode into the kitchen and drummed her fingers on the counter beside the sink to draw Tony’s attention, trying not to spook him. He looked up at her balefully and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“You ok, Tony?” Pepper asked.

Tony shrugged. “I don’t have anything left to puke up. Is that what Ok means these days?”

Pepper wrapped her arm around Tony’s shoulder. “I know you don’t want to see this stuff, but we need to keep moving,”

“I know,” Tony murmured. He hoped to god there really _wasn’t_ anything left in his stomach. He wasn’t so sure he could handle puking his guts up again.

“Come on,” Pepper said. She led Tony out of the kitchen, avoiding the worst of the corpses, and brought him over to the table where Rhodey was lurking. She scowled down at the body Rhodey had hoisted up onto the table, glaring down at the emblem emblazoned on the dead man’s tactical vest. “Oh _that’s_ not good,”

“I told you,” Rhodey grunted. He put his hand up and hit his comm, changing the channel so the entire team could hear him. “Guys? You reading me?”

“We’re here,” Romanoff said, tersely. “What’s the situation?”

“We’re in the cafeteria and it’s a fucking disaster,” Rhodey said. “Hydra’s been here already, but they’ve cleared out. I don’t think it wasn’t because they _wanted_ to leave. It looks like they’ve got competition.”

“Oh?” Romanoff sounded surprised. “I was hoping they were the only vultures circling this place.”

“The new group are dressed in similar armor – it’s all SI made, but they’re wearing different badges. Pep and I don’t recognize them,” Rhodey said. “There’s a circle and the letter V in the middle of it. It looks like it’s wrapped in ribbons and the background is a bed of flames,”

“That sounds like Viastone,” Barton growled.

“Viastone?” Tony looked up sharply. He kept his voice low, not wanting the others to hear through the comms. “That’s Tiberius’ father’s company,”

Rhodey’s expression turned stony. He tapped his comm, separating the feeds again. “Romanoff? Barton?”

“Yes?” Romanoff said.

“Here,” Barton said.

“Be careful. Stark says Viastone is owned by Tiberius’ father,” Rhodey growled.

“Roger _that_ ,” Barton said. He cleared his throat and then let out a high pitched yelp. “ _Hey_ – what the fuck are you doing? Put that down you _son-of-a-bitch_!”

The sudden boom of gunfire made Tony claw at his comm. He pulled it free from his ear and held it in his palm, staring at it in abject horror.

“What’s going on up there?” Pepper snarled into the comm. She picked up her flashlight and scanned the room again. The light reflected off of a familiar face; she gasped and backed up, putting herself in front of Tony. “What the fuck,”

Steve stood at the end of the cafeteria near the door, watching them. He was naked and his rail-thin body was smeared with red; behind him was a trail of bloody footprints. He cocked his head to the side when he realized that they were looking at him. His lips curled in a disdainful frown. He took a step forwards as though to approach and then vanished without a sound. The tables closest to him shot into the air, hurled with so much force they dented the walls and snapped in half on impact.

Tony peered cautiously around Pepper’s shoulder. “What was that?”

“I think it was _Steve_ ,” Pepper murmured. Something caught her attention. She snapped her fingers at Rhodey and shut off her flashlight. She pushed Tony down behind a table when footsteps echoed out into the hall beyond the cafeteria and kneeled beside him, keeping a firm hand on his shoulder so he wouldn’t move. Rhodey ducked behind a tipped-over table beside the wall, disappearing into the darkness as his own flashlight snapped off.

Two heavily armed men walked into the cafeteria with their weapons drawn; their flashlights illuminated the room in slow, steady circles as they looked around. Even at a distance, Tony could tell these were Hydra agents out _hunting_. Their shoulder badges glowed eerily in the dark; the Hydra’s skeletal face seemed to be grinning in pleasure.

The Hydra agents looked around and spotted their dead men. They froze in place, as though stuck to flypaper, and then slowly began to move again once they realized that the room was seemingly devoid of the living. The first man lifted up his radio and started to speak. He was still too far away to shoot, but he was close enough to hear.

“Sir – we have casualties,” the Hydra agent said into his radio. He looked anxiously around the cafeteria and glanced back at the man beside him as though struggling to find a way to properly describe what he was seeing. “This wasn’t the Captain’s doing – this was someone else,” he said after a minute of quiet contemplation.

“I don’t care who it was! Your job is to get the _Captain_ ,” a voice hissed through the radio. “Do not fail me. We are here for _him_ and him alone. If you fail, you will be my next test subject,”

The Hydra agent shuddered and swallowed audibly. “Yes, sir.” He put the radio back into the pouch on his belt and turned to his team mate. “I thought we were supposed to have SI’s security team out of the way by now,” he muttered. “They weren’t supposed to put up a fight,”

“I don’t know,” the second Hydra agent grunted. “No one’s reported in beside us. Maybe they’re all dead,”

“Well  _ that’s _ good to know,” Pepper said, standing up. The Hydra agents turned towards her, startled by her sudden appearance. They fumbled blindly with their weapons; their flashlight beams streaking across the room as they moved. They were no match for Pepper. She fired two shots; they went down in a heap, sprawling on the floor with their weapons trapped underneath them.

Tony winced and reminded himself that this was Pepper and that the men she had so nonchalantly killed were Hydra agents; they didn’t deserve his pity.

“Nice shooting,” Rhodey said, standing up. He peered out into the hall and pulled his head back in with a grin. “We’re clear. I guess they were right about being the only ones around. I’m pretty sure someone would have come running by now,”

“Exactly my thinking,” Pepper said. She plucked the radio from the Hydra agent’s belt pouch. “Let’s just take this to be sure,”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you spot anything weird! : ) I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search continued; they moved deeper into the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for violence, gore, body horror and blood!

The hallway was empty and pitch black; someone had knocked over the line of vending machine that had once adorned the wall, leaving them strewn about like forgotten relics. Glass crunched beneath their feet with every step they took. Candy lay scattered amidst the debris, untouched for the most part. Tony reached down and scooped up a roll of peppermints. He tossed them from hand to hand and then picked up another roll, cracking it open. He popped a mint into his mouth; the taste of bile vanished slowly. 

“You planning on getting a hot date somewhere in here, Tony?” Rhodey teased. 

Tony snorted. “They’re not for me. Well,  _ technically _ this roll is for me. The other one is for Bruce,”

“Oh?” Rhodey cocked an eyebrow. “Is  _ he _ planning on getting a hot date tonight?”

“He’s diabetic,” Tony grunted. “You never know when you need sugar on hand,” 

Rhodey scooped up a bag of sour skittles and stuffed it into his breast pocket. When Tony scowled at him he just smiled and shook his head. “Hey – I happen to  _ like _ skittles. Besides, you never know if they’re going to be your last bag, right?”

Tony glanced down at the candy. Well, it wasn’t like anyone else was going to judge them for scrounging up snacks; they were alone here, and everything was going to go to waste. “I guess you’re right.” He stepped over the last of the candy and then turned back on a whim. A chocolate bar might be nice once they were done here – if they were  _ ever _ done here. He dug around in the debris, knocking a pack of cheezies out of the way and picked up the one, perfect, mars bar – the last one that had survived the fall. He stuffed it into his tool belt. “It’s probably not a bad idea to have one last chocolate bar – you know. In case the worst happens and all that. Besides – maybe Steve’ll want a snack or something,”

Pepper scooped up a pack of chocolate covered raisins and stuffed them into her vest-pocket. When Rhodey shot her a disgusted look, she snorted and rolled her eyes at him. “Hey – you might not like them but I do,”

“I feel like I don’t even  _ know _ you anymore,” Rhodey grumbled.

Pepper let out a sharp laugh and smacked Rhodey in the shoulder. “Very funny. Get moving, tough guy,” 

They slipped through the rest of the room, avoiding the rest of the vending machines they came upon; most of them were too scorched and shot-up to be worth scavenging in anyways. There were cans of pop and coffee strewn along the floor in the hallways they came to next; they stepped carefully, trying not to slip. Some of the cans had bullet holes in them, and their innards had leaked into the carpet, leaving behind a delightful sludge. The smell of cola was heavy in the air.

Their first destination was close now, Tony realized; he let out a relieved sigh. Security HQ was nestled in the middle of its floor, surrounded by smaller offices and sturdy checkpoints. It was one of the least visited locations in the entire facility, and, he hoped, the safest place for them to be. The only people who ever visited the surrounding offices were there to write up security reports, and that only happened once a week. The security guards that watched the many cameras in SI’s system, on the other hand, were always around and enjoyed summoning Tony up to fix broken monitors, keyboards and whatever the hell else they had managed to destroy during their tedious shifts. Tony was pretty sure they had been breaking things on purpose the day before, just to fuck with him. 

When they reached the first checkpoint, they found that the door securely locked. The entire floor was in _total_ lockdown; nothing was being allowed in or out unless it went through a checkpoint – the office doors, and alternate routes, were locked up tight. Keycards would be needed to get them open – or rather, to get the _lock_ open. Strictly speaking, that wasn’t a real problem. Tony had override codes for three of the main checkpoint doors because they had, on the rare occasion, jammed and needed repairs, and his keycard would take care of the rest of the doors. With the power out, the checkpoints were more of a hassle rather than a real deterrent; their slid open with a rough push, and while they were heavy, they were on a smooth, well-maintained track so they moved easily once they got going.

They moved quickly and made good time.

Tony couldn’t see anyone when he stepped into the room directly outside the Security Surveillance Room, but he could tell that _something_ was off, even if there wasn’t any visible damage to any of the doors or walls, and it wasn’t just because Rhodey manhandled him towards the wall, although that was a pretty damn big clue. There were shotgun shells scattered around on the floor, and while he knew that the security guards had a crude sense of humor at times, they had never screwed around when it came to their weaponry.

“I’m not liking the look of this,” Rhodey muttered under his breath. He kept his eyes on the windows around them, watching for movement. “It’s too open here – if there’s someone in there, we’re screwed,”

Tony eyed the windows nervously, following Rhodey’s gaze. He couldn’t see anything aside from a slight blur that may or may not have been someone moving inside the next room, and he didn’t like the look of things either; the windows here were opaque for security purposes, see-through from the inside, and mirror-like from the opposite side. Beside him, Pepper pressed her face to the window, but had no better luck seeing what lay beyond. They gathered together and slunk towards the door, keeping their heads down.

“Go ahead and open her up,” Pepper said, glancing back at the window. “I think we’re clear,”

The light above the door was a devilish red, and in the dark it seemed like something was leering at them. Tony gulped and pulled out his keycard. He tapped it against the card reader beside the door handle and crossed his fingers. _Please let this work – please_ – he chanted over and over again in his head as the card reader decided if it liked the card. Electronic locks were harder to pick than physical ones, and while he could do it, it would take time and he wasn’t sure they had any to spare at this point – not with shotgun shells lying around on the floor.

The red light above the locked door turned a brilliant shade of green; they slid the door open with.

Pepper took point and stepped through the door, lighting the new corridor up with her flashlight. She didn’t seem surprised by what she saw; Tony wondered if she was perhaps too used to blood and gore to be affected by it.

Tony hid his horrified expression from the others by hugging the wall. There was blood on the floor, pooled around the feet of an unidentifiable body and a set of bloody footprints leading off into the distance.

“Looks like we were right. Someone came through here,” Pepper murmured.

“I’m hoping it wasn’t Steve,” Tony murmured, eyeing the footprints. They looked the right size to be from Steve’s feet – not that he had been eyeing the guy’s toes or anything – and Steve was the only one he knew that wandered the halls barefoot. He tucked his keycard away, afraid that he might lose it if they had to run for cover.

“I’m kind of hoping it _was_ Steve,” Rhodey said with a grimace, “Because if it _wasn’t_ , then that means there’s something even _scarier_ than him out there,”

Pepper nodded stiffly. “Let’s just focus on the –”

An explosion rocked the building; they couldn’t see where it had happened, but they could sure as hell _feel_ it.

The floor seemed to _ripple_ beneath their feet.

Metal shrieked; the walls cracked.

Tony and Rhodey were tossed through the air like ragdolls. They hit the wall behind them as another explosion tore through the building; Pepper scrambled to keep her balance and went back-first into a broken vending machine with a muffled grunt. Tony grabbed for Rhodey’s free arm and stood up as the world continued to sway. Together, they staggered towards Pepper, their ears ringing.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Pepper groaned, struggling to get free from the vending machine. Rhodey and Tony wasted no time; they helped her out of the twisted debris, tossing bits of broken plastic and metal aside and stood at her side, flanking her.

“I think it came from above us,” Tony coughed into his arm. He stared wide-eyed up at the ceiling as plaster began to rain down on them. Wires sparked; the steel beams holding the building together groaned in protest and started to sag down towards them. The building shook again and then went deathly still. SI had been designed to survive earthquakes – not bomb blasts. Tony hoped the building would hold.

Something let out a roar. The sound was so loud, so _piercing_ , the security glass that had survived the initial blast cracked.

Tony, Rhodey and Pepper ran for the room at the end of the hall. They scrambled through the last security gate as soon as it slid open and dragged the door shut as the building was rocked by a new explosion.

Gunfire echoed through the hall.

Something landed down below; the building shuddered again on impact.

Tony went flying all over again. He scrambled to keep his balance, but found that it was losing battle. He stared out the hole in the wall, trying to find something to hold on to as he slid towards it – he let out a hysterical laugh as Pepper and Rhodey slid their arms under his armpits. They yanked him away from the hole just in time.

“Stop trying to die a horrible death,” Rhodey grumbled.

“That’s what I was about to say,” Pepper muttered. “Let’s move!”

Tony held on tight to Pepper’s sleeve as they ran down the hall, needing something to hold onto, watching the hallway appear in splotches in front of him their flashlight beams tore through the darkness. He was all too aware that he could have ended up as a smear on the pavement outside. He had seen the stars and they had been far too bright.

They made it to the Security Surveillance Room – the hive-mind that kept Security HQ running – and holed up there. Tony staggered over to the row of monitors displaying the security camera feeds; the cameras on the floor above them had gone to static, but there was still recorded footage waiting to be viewed. He scrolled backwards in the video’s timeline and hit play. Rhodey and Pepper hovered behind him and watched the monitor over his shoulder.

“That was Bruce’s floor – it had to have been Bruce’s floor,” Tony muttered as he waited for the video to buffer.

He was right.

On screen, Bruce paced nervously, checking his equipment every few seconds. It seemed like a normal night – until the security alarms went off. Tony sped the footage up; Bruce zoomed back and forth amidst his instruments as thought he was on roller-skates, checking readings at every turn. He seemed to hear something off-screen and then went about barricaded the door with every table he could spare. He shoved a filing cabinet in front of the interior window and pulled the blinds down, blocking the starlight coming through the exterior window. With seemingly nothing left to do, Bruce walked over to his computer and started typing. He paused every now and then, glancing at the barricade and the window and then finished, saving whatever it was he had been working on. He turned away from the computer and picked up a loaded injector gun, looking grim but determined. He sat down on the floor and set the injector beside him.

What was in the injector gun? Was it death? Or was it life?

Tony sped up time again; he triple it and skipped ahead.

Nothing happened.

Bruce continued to stare down at the injector gun. He barely moved aside from occasionally checking the barricade and window. Then, something changed; Tony couldn’t see what had happened, but Bruce could. The light coming in from under the door flickered across the floor. Bruce heaved a soundless sigh. Without warning, something smashed into the door, sending the barricade sliding into the room by an inch. Whatever it was that had attacked the door took another shot at getting the door open and then, to Tony’s surprise, gave up.

Bruce continued to stare at the injector.

Tony skipped ahead again in the video’s timeline. This couldn’t be happening – it _couldn’t_. Bruce wouldn’t give up like that – would he? Tony slowed the video down, returning it to normal speed.

Bruce picked up the injector gun and positioned its muzzle against the side of his neck, just under his ear.

“No, no, no,” Tony hissed. “This can’t be happening,”

Rhodey put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, man,”

On screen, Bruce pressed the trigger; his body went rigid as green liquid drained into his body. He staggered and hit the floor on his hands and knees, his lips curled in a silent scream. The injector gun landed beside him, forgotten. Bruce’s skin began to change; it went from its natural shade of pale brown to a light green. Bruce twisted and thrashed; he rolled onto his back and scratched at his neck and face. His eyes were glazed over, seemingly sightless as he stared up into the ceiling, his expression turning to a mixture of pain and terror. His glasses flew off as his face swelled up and slingshotted across the room and into a wall.

Tony cringed. Bruce loved those glasses. Tony kept his eyes glued to the security footage.

Bruce’s light green skin began to morph into a thick, forest green. His lithe musculature began to _bulge_ ; extra muscle mass grew all over his body, each new addition expanding and contracting at an unnatural rate, as though it was breathing. After a few seconds, his muscles went still – then, just when it had started to look like the transformation had ended, they began to swell and grow larger and larger with each new pulse of activity. Bruce’s clothing tore off, fluttering away in scraps as he continued to claw at the floor, his nails gouging the cement. He grew bigger and bigger with each pulse of muscle until he was almost as wide as the room. Then, and only then, did he fall deathly still.

Tony swallowed down a mouthful of bile. Was he about to see Bruce’s death?

Rhodey’s hand tightened on Tony’s shoulder; Pepper’s hand settled on the opposite shoulder.

Tony let out a held-in breath.

On screen, Bruce twitched and then stood up, his nostrils flaring. His gaze drifted to the walls. He peered at them curiously, as though never having seen one before and then jumped back, his head brushing the ceiling. He reached up and ran his hand over the tiles, seemingly mesmerized by them.

Something smashed into the door again, sending the tables skittering forwards into the room. The door splintered and bulged inwards; this time, it didn’t hold. Hydra agents poured into the room with their weapons drawn, their faces covered in gasmasks, their bodies covered in tactical gear. They shouted at Bruce – their words were unintelligible over the cameras.

Tony winced. Bruce hated being shouted at on a _good_ day. This didn’t look like it was going to end well for anyone involved.

Bruce – or whatever it was that Bruce had become – opened his mouth and let out what must have been a bloodcurdling roar before launching himself onto the Hydra agents. Hydra had had the upper hand before; now, they were defenceless. Everyone Bruce got his hands on was torn limb from limb and in a small room, he could reach damn near _everywhere_. The Hydra agents shrieked as they saw what was happening and opened fire, trying to protect themselves; they scrambled to get out of the room, but there was only one door and it was only so wide. They elbowed and shoved each other, trying to escape, caring little for their teammates.

The bullets didn’t seem to even _bother_ Bruce; it looked like he couldn’t even _feel_ them. He continued to smash his fists into his attackers, grabbing and hurling anyone that got close enough to him. One of the agents ended up thrown so hard, he seemed to splatter across the wall.

Bruce let out a new silent roar and clapped his blood-stained hands together; he bared his teeth and grinned.

The once white walls were splattered with blood; the tables and equipment that had still been standing were in varying states of disarray.

One of the Hydra agents, the only one who had managed to shove his way to freedom, stood in the doorway visibly shaking. He pulled a handful of grenade from his belt with trembling fingers, unpinned and threw them into Bruce’s lab.

Bruce snorted and picked up one of the grenades, confused by the strange little ball that had bounced off of his shoulder.

He gave it a sniff.

It exploded and sent him sliding backwards across the floor.

The first blast set off the rest of the grenades; the resulting explosion sent Bruce clean through the wall and out into the night in a cloud of fire and debris.

The video crackled and went to static as the camera in Bruce’s room went dead.

 

 

“So are we rooting for your friend or are we hoping to never get with ten feet of him?” Pepper asked, her eyes still locked on the video feed.

“I’m thinking we need to do a little of both,” Rhodey said, dryly. “That does not look like one happy camper,”

“Agreed,” Tony said. He sighed and shook his head. “I’m betting that jackass took his version of the Super Soldier Serum.” He looked down at the keyboard beneath his fingers and gritted his teeth. “He told me it was ready for human trials,”

“Somehow, I’m betting he didn’t think that would happen,” Pepper whistled.

Rhodey glanced around at the monitors where Bruce’s transformation was still on screen. “ _Christ_ – did you see the power he had? I’m betting if you patch into the exterior cameras, you’re not going to see him dead on the street. He’s probably _still_ fighting them,”

“I sure hope so,” Tony murmured. He searched through the feeds and found the closest exterior cameras, tapping in to its feed. There, in all his glory, was Bruce smashing his way through an armored Hydra ATV as if it had been made out of tin foil. Bruce picked the ATV up and began pulling the wheels off of the undercarriage.

“Yep,” Tony said as he watched Bruce stuff parts of a heavy duty tire into his mouth. “He looks like he’s planning on eating an ATV for dinner. That’s just _lovely_ ,”

“I hope _someone_ has something to stop him. If he gets out into the general population like that – hell, I don’t even want to _think_ about what he might do if he happens to wander by a school bus tomorrow morning,” Pepper said, scowling down at the footage. “Can you check his private files? Maybe he left something for you that’ll fix this,”

“I don’t know if this is the kind of thing you can _fix_ , but let’s see,” Tony said. He rolled his chair over to a new computer terminal. This room wasn’t just for policing the camera feeds; it might look that way to the untrained eye, but the programs Security worked with were capable of far more than just screen peeking. The guards could run data checks on all the computer terminals and accounts in the network; they could look at everything that came in or out of the system – no matter what time of day, or who the person was. No terminal was safe – not when it was a terminal bought and paid for by Howard Stark. Howard was fairly strict about what people did when using his equipment. He didn’t like it when people downloaded porn during their work hours, and he didn’t like it when people wander the internet mindlessly either. Selling corporate secrets was probably just as big of a no-no as streaming YouTube video in Howard’s mind; _everything_ was policed– that was why Tony rarely used his company computer unless he absolutely had to. It just wasn’t worth the risk.

Tony logged into the system using the dummy admin account he had made months ago and dived directly into Bruce’s terminal. There, winking at him in bright green, was a new file – one that was named TonyYouBetterReadThisYouJerk.txt. Tony didn’t hesitate; he clicked and opened the file.

It was a simple text document; the message it contained was brief.

_Tony – Hydra is here. I can’t let them get the serum. I know it works – I’ve been testing it for months now. It will work. They’ll come for Steve – they want what SI has, and they’ll kill to get it. Everything you need is in HC1944_SR_PR_01. Good luck and be careful._

Tony didn’t realize he was crying until he felt Pepper touch his hand. He smiled wearily up at her, not quite sure what to say. His phone felt like a brick in his pocket. Why hadn’t he tried to talk to Bruce directly? Why hadn’t he warned him? Things might not have ended up this way – if only he had used his goddamned phone!

“It’s not your fault, Tony,” Rhodey said, leaning over Tony’s shoulder to read the message. “Even if you had known all of this, we still wouldn’t have made it up here in time to get to him before those Hydra agents did,”

“He’s right,” Pepper said, softly. “There’s nothing you could do,”

“I could have called him,” Tony muttered, putting his face in his hands. “I have his fucking phone number. I should have _called_ ,”

“I don’t know about you, but I didn’t see a cellphone in any of the footage we watched,” Rhodey said. “Stands to reason he wouldn’t have heard you calling even if you had called,”

“You’re probably right,” Tony admitted. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand. He had to get it together; now was not the time to break down. They needed to keep moving – they had to keep moving or there wouldn’t be anything left to save.

“What the hell did he mean by ‘ _everything you need is in HC1944_SR_PR_01?_ Is that some kind of code?” Pepper asked. “Is that a room? A file?”

“Could be anything,” Rhodey grunted.

“Well, your friend doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would leave something useful lying around where any idiot could find it,” Pepper mused. “It must be something big if he thought you’d need to see it – it’s probably a file.”

Tony sat up, forcing himself to get back to work even though he wanted nothing more than to throw the computer across the room; he owed Bruce this much. _This_ was something he could do. He dove into the rest of Bruce’s files and began searching through nested folders. The file names didn’t help much, but every elimination helped narrow the search. Everything Bruce had worked on was named in a combination of numbers and letters; none of it meant anything to Tony, but a quick look told him exactly what he had already guessed. The folder – or file – whatever it was that Bruce had left him – was not on Bruce’s computer. That left Tony with new problem. Was the file on the network, or was it a hardcopy and thus outside the network entirely? Peering through the full system would take _hours_ even with admin status, and as usual, they didn’t have the time. Of course, He could always try and use Jarvis, but in order to access his beloved AI, he would need to get a direct uplink to the suit and in order to do _that_ he would need to get to the suit. There was no way to win unless they were _extremely_ lucky. He groaned and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I think we’re going to need to search Bruce’s office manually – that’s the fastest way to do this,” he said, finally. “If we can’t find it there, it’s in the network somewhere and if it’s there then we’re royally fucked,”

Pepper sighed. “Great. _Another_ detour,”

“I’d rather we had Bruce’s file than Hydra,” Tony said, flatly.

“Agreed,” Rhodey said. “So – what do you want to do, Pep?”

“We’re leaving,” Pepper said. “The question is how we leave the place. Should we disable security entirely or leave someone behind to watch it?” Pepper drummed her finger on her chin.

“There’s only three of us and there are a shitload of assholes up there – maybe even more,” Rhodey said. “I’m voting no on that plan,”

“Same here. I don’t want to get locked out of the system if one of Hydra’s smart agents sneaks in here, but it’s not worth the risk to leave someone behind,” Pepper hummed. “Is there a way to rig it so the system runs for us _without_ us being chained to a console up here?

“If we get to my suit,” Tony drawled, “I could take care of _all_ of that remotely,”

“We’re going to need to do something to stall for time then,” Pepper said.

“Let’s block the doors and let the fuckers try and dig their way in. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want anyone just randomly unlocking anything unless we’re the ones doing it,” Rhodey said, motioning to the security feeds where several labs were in open view. There were animals pacing about in their cages, and while _some_ of them didn’t look vicious, they didn’t exactly look sweet and docile either. “I really don’t want to get my face torn off if one of those gets let out,” Rhodey said.

“An excellent point,” Pepper said. “I’m sure we all enjoy our faces the way they are,”

“I know I do,” Tony said. He walked over to a cabinet and gave it a friendly pat. They might not have Jarvis at their side yet, but that didn’t mean they were helpless when it came to the security system. He had been up here when the admin had made spare keycards; he knew how to crank them out – well, in theory. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll have keycards for every damn door in this place,” he said.

“I think we can work with that,” Rhodey said with a grin.

 

 

They took the stairs after breezing their way through the last of the security checkpoints and found the fire door unblocked. Hydra’s gear was strewn about in the hallway, left where it had been dropped. There were no survivors; here, there was only the dead. There were bright orange x’s spray-painted on the walls outside of the rooms where scientists had been rounded up and executed. Hydra had been busy clearing the competition out, and they had been thorough.

Tony, Rhodey and Pepper made their way to the remains of Bruce’s lab, keeping their heads down and their footsteps as muffled as possible. The only person they saw still breathing was Hydra agent who was sitting in what was left of the doorway; the man didn’t seem to be able to see them and was staring vacantly at the hole in the exterior wall as though it was whispering sweet nothings to him. Rhodey put the man out of his misery and they moved on, slipping into the lab and out of sight.

The damage to Bruce’s lab was worse than Tony had expected. The wall where there had once been a window filled with calming flowers was gone; it was now somewhere down below in the parking lot, along with a pile of trampled cars and trucks. Tony peered out through the hole and quickly pulled his head back in. “That’s a lot of guns,” he whistled.

“That’s a lot of rocket launchers,” Rhodey grunted, peering out the hole. “I’m counting over fifty guys down there,”

“I know we’re _good_ ,” Pepper said, grimly, “but we’re not _that_ good.”

The floor beneath their feet creaked ominously.

Tony skidded to a halt. “Did you hear that?”

Pepper and Rhodey nodded in unison.

“That’s uh… that’s not the floor, collapsing, is it?” Pepper asked. “Because I don’t think I like that idea very much,”

“Same here,” Rhodey muttered. “I like my floors _stationary_ and _structurally sound_ ,”

Tony spun around in a slow, careful circle, and surveyed the room. They needed to find Bruce’s file and fast, but where could the precious information have been squirreled away? There were a good dozen different spots to search – and that was just the spots that were still standing. Had the hiding place been destroyed already during Bruce’s transformation? Or had it survived somehow?

The floor let out a loud groan and began to buckle in the middle; the room began to slant downwards.

“Tony – I think we need to get the hell out of here,” Rhodey said, marching for the door.

“But we can’t leave without the file,” Tony insisted. He panicked, frantic to find something – anything – and spotted a filing cabinet near the computer consoles. He recognized it; it was the cabinet where Bruce stashed all of his emergency candy. He dove for the filing cabinet. If there was _one_ place to hide a file, it was there. No one would expect to find something important buried underneath a mountain of _candy_. Anyone who knew Bruce would know that the guy practically lived and _breathed_ file structure; everything had its place, and files were simply not stored alone.

Pepper darted forwards to chase after Tony and then sprang backwards, pressing herself up against the wall with her rifle slung over her shoulder. “Tony!” she shouted. It was too late; the warning was lost in in a screech of metal. The cracks in the floor closest to the gaping hole in the wall began to grow larger, spreading out like reaching fingers. The floor began to peel apart in the middle, revealing strands of rebar and sparking wires; it let out another baleful moan before it crumbled. Rhodey disappeared into the darkness, his flashlight tearing from his hands with a shout. Pepper vanished behind a plume of debris as the ceiling panels dropped down, unable to support their own weight; the overhead lights shattered and sprinkled down into the abyss as the room split in two.

Tony huddled against the filing cabinet, unable to move, with his flashlight pressed painfully up against his chest. After a few seconds, the dust settled. Tony coughed into his sleeve and hit his comm, praying that it still worked. “Are you two alright?”

The line was filled with static.

“Pepper?” Tony coughed. “Rhodey? Is anyone reading me?”

“Tony?” Rhodey’s voice was hoarse. He wheezed into the comm and fell silent.

“ _Rhodey_? Are you alright?” Tony hissed. He stood up slowly and felt the floor beneath him wobble. “Shit, this is bad,” he muttered under his breath.

“You’re telling me,” Rhodey grunted. “There’s half a fucking _ceiling_ on top of me. How’s Pepper?”

“I don’t know – she hasn’t said anything yet,” Tony said.

“Don’t spend too much time looking for her, Tony – if she’s alive, she’ll be alright. I don’t think the floor up there is going to hold out much longer,” Rhodey said. “I can see it from here. It doesn’t look good. If you’re going to look for files, you’d better do it now.”

“Ok – Pepper? Did you hear that? _Pep_?” Tony said. When he got no response, he pulled open the filing cabinet’s top drawer as slowly as possible, not wanting to accidentally jar it. He found himself face-to-face with a pile of candy; everything was brand new, fresh from the store. He dug around and felt along the bottom of the drawer. There, nestled under a bag of tootsie pops and sour skittles, was a red paper folder. Tony eased it free, mindful of his every movement and cracked it open, lifting his flashlight to get a look at the contents. Inside, there was a single sheet of paper with a new file name. 19_SS9_SSR_HC.txt. Tony flipped the paper over, hoping for more of a clue, but there was nothing else to see; he gave the folder a quick once-over and found it devoid of interest. Sighing, he stuffed the piece of paper into his pocket and tossed the folder back into the drawer before pushing the filing cabinet’s door closed. He nudged it back up against the wall to keep it from tipping over; if it went, it would take him with it. “Pep? Are you reading me?” he grunted into the comm. Sweat dripped down the side of his face. This was bad – _very_ , bad. He squinted across the room but couldn’t see even a hint of Pepper through the darkness. He wiggled his flashlight out from under his arm and aimed it at the far wall.

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice was barely audible through the comm.

“ _Pepper_?” Rhodey hissed. “You alright?”

“I’m ok – just a little dizzy. I can’t see much, but I think I’m stuck on this side of the room. There’s a lot of crap over here – I don’t think I can get back around,” Pepper said. She coughed loudly. “Tony? Try and get to the hallway – I’ll meet you there if I can,”

“Right – ok,” Tony said. He tiptoed around the edge of the hole in the floor, trying to keep to the wall and balance at the same time as the meager bridge hanging off the wall began to narrow. Despite his best efforts, he still slipped in dust and fell to his knees. He yelped as he slid towards the hole in the floor, clutching his flashlight tightly to keep from losing it. The filing cabinet creaked and tipped over; it went over the edge and landed with a bang.

“Tony!” Pepper coughed. “I heard something fall – are you alright?”

Tony twisted around, clawing at the floor. He managed to latch onto a piece of rebar as his body tipped backwards. This is it, he thought as his lower half slid towards the hole in the floor. This is how I’m going to die. He struggled to lift himself up, but his backpack and toolkit were too heavy. His fingers slipped. He went backwards with a scream still caught in his throat.

Suddenly, he was in the air – but he wasn’t falling; he was hovering. The pleasant sensation was gone in an instant. He shot up, through the air and hit the wall with a groan; he curled in on himself, huddling around his flashlight and tool kit. He lifted his head, feeling faint.

Steve padded over to Tony, his bare, bloody, feet slapping wetly against the dusty floor. There was a strange taupe-coloured energy emanating from his body; he was surrounded by some kind of living _liquid_ , but he didn’t seem to notice its presence. His emaciated, naked, body was pale and dirty; his knees were knobby and his limbs dangerously thin. He looked down at Tony with lifeless eyes and raised a hand. The rebar sticking out from the cement began to twist and turn towards Tony; the wires floated up, still crackling with live current.

“Steve?” Tony croaked. He forced himself up onto his knees, still hugging his toolkit and flashlight to his chest. “Steve! It’s me – it’s _Tony_ ,”

Steve frowned and gave his head a violent shake. He locked eyes with Tony and opened his mouth as if to speak. No words came out. His frown deepened.

A dark circle appeared on the wall behind Steve; the darkness swirled, curling at the edges. Steve turned and looked over his shoulder, his eyes going wide and frightened. Taupe coloured tentacles tore from the dark circle, reaching not for Steve, but for Tony. Steve punched at the tentacles, his fear turning to fury. He stalked towards the circle, glaring at it, his fists curled into balls, and vanished, along with the tentacles, leaving behind nothing but swirling dust and black smoke.

“Steve!” Tony stood up, lugging his toolkit behind him. He slumped forwards in dismay and pressed his hand to the wall where Steve had vanished. Had there really been a hole here? Or was he seeing things? Had he hit his head? He didn’t think he had, but it was possible. He felt at his scalp feebly, but could find nothing wrong.

“Tony?” Rhodey’s voice was rough in Tony’s ear.

Tony set his toolkit down and tapped his comm. “I’m alright. I almost fell through the floor, but Steve pulled me out,”

“Tony? Are you listening?” Rhodey growled. “ _Tony_!”

“What?” Tony snapped. He looked around the room and spotted the red dots snaking their way across the floor. They slid back and forth through the dust in a swarm, tracking movement. He had designed enough weapons in his life to know what they were – what would happen if they found on him. “Oh _shit_ ,”

“Yeah,” Rhodey growled. “ _Oh shit_. You’d better get the fuck out of there before one of their fucking _snipers_ blows your brains out. That goes for you too Pep – it look like they’re going to come in through the hole in the wall, and unless you want to end up dead, you’d better start moving now. Don’t worry about me – I’ll meet you upstairs,”

“Roger that,” Pepper said. “Tony – we’ll meet up in your lab. I can’t get back over there, so you’re going to have to do this alone,”

“Ok,” Tony said, clearing his throat. His palms were sweaty; he wiped them absently on his pants. “What about you? I know where I’m headed, but how are you getting out?”

“The wall fell over here – I think I can squeeze my way out,” Pepper grunted. “Don’t worry about me. Get moving,”

Tony felt his way along the wall and found the doorway. He slipped out of the room and breathed in a deep, slow, breath. He grimaced when he caught sight of what had once been the perfectly good hallway. Pepper was right. A substantial section of the wall had collapsed. There was no way to know how much damage had been caused when Bruce had transformed; they were probably lucky they were all still alive and relatively uninjured. “Right – ok. I’m taking the stairwell on the east side of the building. I’ll try to head up to the sixth floor,” he said. “That’s where you guys need to go. Did you get that?”

“Roger that, Tony,” Rhodey said. “I’m heading for that hatch we came up through. I’ll try and meet you in your lab, but if you need to run, Stark – you _run_. Don’t stick around waiting for either of us. Don’t be a hero – save yourself,”

“We’ll be fine,” Pepper said, firmly. “It’s fine Tony. Just head on up. I’ll meet you and Rhodey there.”

“Alright – see you two up there. Don’t be late,” Tony said, heading towards the next office. He didn’t like the idea of saving his skin while his friends were suffering, but there was nothing he could do to help them aside from moving on. He pulled out his master keycard and let himself through the locked door. The room was empty. He skidded through a pile of paper as he ran for the opposite door. He could hear footsteps behind him – heavy footsteps – and he knew he didn’t have time to stick around and sight-see. That wasn’t Rhodey and Pepper behind him – that was Hydra.

 

 

Stairwells were far more terrifying when alone and in the dark, Tony mused. He scrambled up with his flashlight in hand, taking the steps two at a time, panting. Someone had tried to hide here in the stairwell and that it hadn’t ended well; bloody shoeprints littered the cement. When the trail vanished, he found a body curled up on its side resting against the railing, a hand dangling out into the darkness. He continued on, hoping for an easy journey, and instead found the upper access levels blocked. He pried the door open a crack and got a good look at the heavy table and vending machine blocking the door. He listened carefully. No one seemed to be around. Grinning, he put his tool kit down and pushed his shoulder up against the door. It gave, but just barely. He shoved once, twice – three times. He managed to get the door open enough to squeeze through. He slipped out into the fifth floor once he was absolutely sure there was no one lurking in the darkness.

The lights above him flickered, but didn’t turn on. He could hear the sound of his own breaths and footfalls; it was only a matter of time before someone heard him. The rooms around him didn’t make him feel safe. All the doors and walls were made of glass, and there was very little lying around that blocked the line of sight from one side of the room to the other. The tables would do in a pinch, but if anyone managed to get the door open and stepped inside, they would spot him immediately. He staggered over to a closed door and peered through the glass into the darkened room. The fifth floor was filled with board rooms; it never really had any permanent occupants, so it was unlikely he would run into someone here – other than a Hydra agent, of course. He swiped his master keycard through the magnetic lock and stepped inside, closing the door gingerly behind him. The air here was still cold from the air conditioning, even though it had been shut off hours ago. He took in a deep breath and forced himself to keep moving despite burn in his legs. It was only a few more feet and then he would have another room to go through. He could do this. He would be fine. Rhodey and Pepper would be fine. He had been in this building a thousand times over – he knew where to go.

Tony reached for the next door and nearly tripped over his own feet.

There, standing in the hallway, was Steve. This wasn’t the same Steve he had seen earlier; this Steve looked lost and confused, as though he had wandered here by mistake, a small animal separated from its family. He was dressed in the same scrubs he had been wearing the first time Tony had seen him, and he didn’t look as though he had taken a shower in blood and grime. He seemed relatively _untouched_ , although he still seemed small for someone his age.

Steve looked around, his scrawny arms wrapped tightly around his middle, and took a slow step forward in the dark.

Tony opened the door. “Steve?” he called out tentatively. Steve didn’t seem to hear him.

Tony stepped outside and closed the door. “Steve?” He held out a hand and lowered his flashlight so he wouldn’t blind Steve with the beam. “ _Steve_?”

Steve turned. His eyes looked glassy in the dim light; his expression was blank. He lunged forwards, following the flashlight beam and wrapped his hands around Tony’s throat.

Tony struggled, slapping at Steve’s bare shoulders; he didn’t want to die, but he didn’t want to hurt Steve either. “Steve,” he choked out. “Steve – _stop_. You’re hurting me, honey,”

Steve went still. He blinked and gave his head a shake. He looked down at his hands and let out a hoarse cry of anguish. His grip on Tony’s throat loosened until his hands simply dropped onto Tony’s shoulders.

“Steve – hey, no,” Tony said, rubbing at his likely bruised throat. “Don’t leave – ok? Don’t leave,”

Steve swallowed hard and dropped his gaze down at his feet. He let go of Tony’s shoulders and wrapped his arms around himself again. He began to cry, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Tony reached out to wrap his arms around Steve’s middle, wanting to comfort him, and found himself clutching smoke. Cursing, he turned in a wild circle, trying to track which way Steve had gone. He caught sight of something blonde and pale off in the distance and ran towards it, desperate to keep up. Barreling around the corner, he didn’t have time to stop before he saw the door. He hit it at full force and went down with a gasp, dropping his toolkit and flashlight with a crash that echoed down the hallway; the door swung open with a lazy creak.

Whimpering and lying on his side, he stared into the open office, trying to catch his breath as pain danced through his nerves. His vision blurred as the flashlight rolled across the floor and into the door frame. He blinked away spots.

The computer terminal in the corner of the room turned on with a soft click; the light from its monitor was blinding, a heavenly ray in the dark.

Tony heaved himself upright, plucking his tool kit from the floor. He brushed at his pockets and found the piece of paper he had pulled from Bruce’s hidden folder. Well, he thought, he might as well check what was in the file. The computer was on – why waste the opportunity? He grabbed his flashlight, setting it on the table beside him, and collapsed into the rolling chair that had been left so _thoughtfully_ in front of the computer, leaving his tool kit down by his feet. He broke into the network using Bruce’s login as a base and found no resistance. Clearly, Bruce’s abrupt departure from the building hadn’t quite reached the techs yet. After navigating his way through seven different firewalls, he found the searchbar he needed. He typed in the file name one character at a time, and checked the final product before hitting enter. The last thing he wanted was to be booted from the system because of a typo.

The screen went black.

Tony frowned.

Well, _that_ wasn’t supposed to happen. The computers up here were wired into a separate power grid to keep data from being lost. The power wasn’t supposed to so much as _flicker_ ; SI had installed surge protectors all over the place to keep that from happening.

The computer let out a piercing beep and started whirring; it rebooted with a hiss and when it did, there, on the screen, was an open txt file. There wasn’t much on the first page – just a few hastily cropped pictures of a young man with blonde hair and blue eyes. Tony scrolled down, his hand heavy on the mouse. The next images he saw were scans of hardcopy paperwork. This was a chunk of Steve Roger’s file – a piece that had likely been hidden away.

Tony read the text, mouthing the words as he read.

According to the first image, a scan of of Erskine’s reports, Steve Rogers had been drafted into Project: Rebirth at the tender age of sixteen. His mother had been working at SI in the janitorial department at the time. She had brought him in to work one day, trying to introduce him to the cleaning staff so he might get a part-time job and the boy had run into Erskine while delivering a roll of paper towel to the cafeteria workers. Erskine had been amused by Steve’s _gumption_ – the boy had been invited into the lab so they could run tests on him – tests that had been drawn up purely because of Erskine _gut_ _feeling_ that the boy had a good ‘heart’ – whatever the hell that meant. The word _feeling_ had been written scornfully in red pen on top of the existing text. Tony could almost hear Howard Stark’s voice.

He moved on.

A page from Howard’s daily report appeared next.

Once Steve had been deemed fit for the job, Howard had set about ‘procuring’ their new specimen despite Erskine’s insistence that the boy should volunteer on his own. There were details here that made Tony’s heart want to crawl up his throat and die. Howard had apparently gone _digging_ through Mrs. Rogers’ financial information – the term Howard had used in the report was ‘ _scoping’_ but Tony knew exactly what that meant; he had seen it done on _his_ mother during the divorce. Scoping meant that Howard had done damn near everything to find every last detail of Sarah Rogers’ past. The tactic was akin to stalking and it was illegal as hell, but according to the report, no one had been able to prove Howard had been involved, so his ‘sport’ had been largely ignored. Even if the snooping had been noticed by the police, Tony doubted that it would have stopped. Howard enjoyed buying people and those couldn’t buy, he threatened and badgered until they became his minions. Sarah Rogers had become another one of Howard’s unlucky targets. No one had come to her aid. By the looks of things, she hadn’t been able to say no to Howard’s request; her dearly departed husband’s gambling debts had left her in too deep to lose her job, and that was what Howard had held over her head. If she had said no and been fired, the likely outcome, was that the debt collectors would have broken her legs or killed her _and_ her son. Howard had taken particular glee in writing that part down. He had written ‘ _broken legs_ ’ in bold and underlined it three times. Tony’s lip curled in disgust.

At the end of the first page, it became clear what Howard had done next. There, scribbled in the last line in Howard’s neat scrawl were the words ‘called in recruiters’.

Tony’s heart twisted again. If this was an accurate report, Howard had called in his private hit squad – men whose job was to go looking for every last penny a person owned. Sarah had stood strong – according to Howard’s increasingly vicious comments, but she had been forced to relinquish guardianship of Steve ten months after Howard had caught her by the purse strings – that was at _least_ seven months longer than Maria had held out against Howard back during the divorce. Sarah hadn’t given in without a fight either. She had forced Howard to agree to her remaining on as a janitor at SI and had demanded to have complete access to her son any time she wanted it. Howard’s notes were scribbled and almost illegible there; at the bottom was his signature and Sarah Rogers’. The mini-contract had been tacked onto the report, written in legalese that was barely decipherable. It was a nice attempt; beautiful in its simplicity, but things hadn’t worked out the way Sarah had expected. She had died shortly after Project: Rebirth had started in full, or so Howard’s gleeful note had stated, and hadn’t ever been able to request a single visit with her son.

Erskine’s notes took over from Howards, shining a light on the woman’s untimely demise. Erskine hadn’t been sure whether her death was Howard’s doing or not, but whatever the case, it had jumpstarted Steve’s drug trials, and caused Erskine to become extremely nervous. Steve Rogers had been thrown headfirst into his new life without a friend or dime to his name. The sickly boy had apparently felt a strong need to serve his country – or so Erskine’s notes claimed – and after his mother’s passing, he had been even _more_ adamant about contributing to the project. Erskine had written in smooth, looping, handwriting, that he believed Steve Rogers was the right man for the job – that there was no doubt he would do good things.

Tony scrolled down.

Howard’s next report was written in dark blue pen. The report was probably just a formality. Steve had volunteered for the final serum injection all on his own; he had made the choice without coercion. Of course, Tony doubted that it had been that simple. Steve’s mother had been dead for three months by then; he hadn’t really had anything to live for after that, now had he?

The next report was in Erskine’s bold handwriting.

Steve had been introduced to one of the other candidates – a young James Buchanan Barnes – and they had become fast friends; Barnes was given the serum an hour after after Rogers, and while he had progressed well, the serum hadn’t worked quite the same way on him as it had on Steve. Barnes had been given a different set of traits – _soldier’s traits_. He had packed on muscle and grown within minutes of the injection, going from a stocky five foot one to easily over six feet tall.

Things hadn’t gone so well for Steve.

The next report was half-finished and splattered with blood. It was Erskine’s daily report – one he had never finished. Howard’s handwriting took over after a single fragmented sentence, filling the page.

Erskine had been assassinated in the SI parking after the celebration party before anyone could tell what the serum had really done to Steve. Howard’s report ignored Steve entirely and was purely about Barnes’ successful transformation. Howard had scribbled one word after noting Erskine’s death date at the end of the report – _Hydra_. Clearly they had either been responsible for the assassination, or had been a suspect.

Steve’s life didn’t change much after Erskine’s death; Howard’s reports on the subject were brief and sparse. Steve had gone on with regular testing and had suffered through endless blood draws and body scans even though he hadn’t benefited from the serum at all. Eventually, ten pages of reports later, Howard figured out that Steve’s health problems had mysteriously sorted themselves out all on their own; it had made him hopeful. Steve hadn’t been sick once since the serum – but he _had_ started having massive headaches that had left him debilitated and bedridden for days on end. Those ‘bad days’, as Howard called them, increased in number whenever Barnes was deployed in one of SI’s private missions for extra testing. The two serum testers had been kept in almost constant contact up until then, and they hadn’t understood what the serum had done.

The report changed. Howard’s writing was bold, the ink thick and pressed deep; his disappointment was almost tangible. Barnes had disappeared during a classified mission involving a train and arctic conditions. He was presumed dead.

Howard’s next report stated that Steve had gone into yet another downward spiral. Howard hadn’t written anything after that other than a single fragmented sentence, ‘failed body recovery for Barnes’.

After that, the daily reports were far less detailed. The notation became clinical, as though Howard was observing an animal. Steve had stopped eating and moving on his own; every day was the same. Eventually, Steve had become comatose and they had been forced to feed him intravenously. Howard hadn’t been sure what had caused the change and it had made him angry. Had it been Barnes death? Had it been inevitable all along? Had it been caused by the serum? Whatever the case, it had crippled Project: Rebirth beyond recovery. Howard’s rage spewed across the page in bright red ballpoint ink. He had deemed the project a failure and had arranged for Steve to live out the rest of his days, however many they might be, in a SI containment cell.

The next image Tony scrolled down to was a photocopy of a post-it. It was hard to read, and packed with dense script. Howard had been infuriated by Project: Rebirth’s failures after Erskine’s death; Barnes’ skills had developed, but not Steve’s, and it had driven Howard crazy. He had tried recreating the serum multiple times, using Steve’s and Barnes’ blood to try and draw the lost information out, but there had been nothing to work with. Erskine had not left any of what he had done written down. He had been too paranoid for that, according to Howard, and because of that paranoia, there was nothing to show for his work – aside from a seemingly physically and mentally crippled Steve Rogers.

But Howard had been wrong about the serum being a failure.

According to the next report Howard had filed, dated three months and three days after Steve’s supposed ‘ _retirement’_ , Steve had woken psychokinetically. The power Steve had amassed was unstable and far stronger than anything SI had ever encountered before, and finally – _finally_ – Steve wasn’t a failure. Howard’s words were written boldly in black ink. He deemed the serum his greatest success. _This_ was what SI had been hoping for – this was the Super Soldier they had been waiting to dissect.

Howard’s notes were less legible in the next image. He wrote about how ecstatic he was to be returning to work. This time around, he did not have a passive, well-behaved test subject to work with. Steve had been _impossible_ to control. The images following the happy note were report sheets mixed in with Howard’s personal notes, listing the billion and one different problems Steve had caused. The guy had broken so much equipment and injured so many people, the staff had become _terrified_ of him; they wouldn’t even step in the same _room_ with him without an armed escort. Steve could move objects around with his mind, cause things to catch fire with a thought and create vivid hallucinations in the minds of the people who worked with him – some of which were so strong, staff members were sent away to a nearby mental hospital for treatment. As Steve became more and more unstable, he had been less and less willing to listen to ‘reason’ – or so Howard had described it. Tony wasn’t so sure he believed that part; Howard always had been unreasonable with his demands. For all Tony knew, Steve might have just been refusing to eat his _peas_ at lunch.

Tony scrolled down. The next image was of a typed up and wrinkled page. It was a full list of the injuries the staff had received while working with Steve. Tony drew in a sharp breath.

Howard himself had been thrown through a wall; one of the other head researchers had died after being _mysteriously_ lit on fire – others had suffered traumatic injuries ranging from broken bones to crushed limbs. The list seemed to go on and on. Tony whistled and shook his head. In the end, SI hadn’t fully discovered what Steve was capable of; he didn’t see a single mention of Steve being able to vanish at will, or of Steve leaving behind a puff of smoke in his wake – hell, he didn’t see anything about the strange energy either. Instead of waiting to find out more, Howard and his lackeys had taken the easy way out. The last image made Tony’s skin crawl. It was a status report for Steve Rogers’ impending incarceration. There was the red pen again. It stated boldly that they had put Steve into a permanent coma and locked him away once and for all. Steve Rogers – _unfit for further testing_.

Tony jumped when his phone rang, banging his shins against the table.

Desperate to get _Star Spangled Man_ to stop echoing in the empty room, he dug through his jacket pockets and pulled the phone out. He didn’t recognize the number, but answered it anyway.

“Hello?” Tony growled. “Who the hell is this?”

“Tony?” Howard’s voice was hoarse.

Tony scowled. The last person he wanted to talk to right now was _Howard_ , but he wasn’t going to hang up on the son-of-a-bitch – not until he knew what Howard wanted. Howard only ever called for one reason – to order him around.

“What do you want, Howard?” Tony asked through gritted teeth.

“Where are you?” Howard asked.

“Where do you _think_ I am?” Tony asked. He rubbed his eyes and glared at the open file still on screen. Fucking _Howard_ and his fucking reports; Howard had damned Steve Rogers to a life of isolation, and here he was, having a conversation with his only son as if he actually _cared_.

“Where are you, Tony,” Howard growled.

“I’m where I should be,” Tony said.

“You went back into the building?” Howard’s voice rose in pitch. “What the hell were you _thinking_? There are mercenaries all over the place – are you out of your goddamned _mind_?”

“Yeah, I kind of noticed all the shooting,” Tony said, dryly. “Thanks for the warning, by the way. I’m going to go now before they intercept this call and shoot my ass,”

“Don’t you _dare_ hang up on me, you useless little _shit_ ,” Howard snapped.

Tony stiffened before sinking lower in his chair. He glanced around, checking the windows and turned the computer monitor slightly so the light wasn’t so obvious. So far, the floor seemed soldier – or mercenary – free, but there was no way of knowing how long _that_ might last. He wanted to hang up more than anything but didn’t, only because he knew he that if he did, he would be phoned back ten seconds later by an even _angrier_ Howard. While he enjoyed making Howards suffer, he didn’t want to hear the bastard screaming at him – not now. “What do you want?” he asked, his lips curling in displeasure.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Obadiah has convinced the Board that it’s too dangerous to wait for SI’s forces to retake the building,” Howard growled. “I need you to go stop them. I can’t have them interfering – we’re at a crucial stage in testing and if they fuck this up, it’s going to set my work back by _years_. You need to get out of here and take care of it for me – don’t bother coming to get me, just go talk to them,”

“I’m not going _anywhere_ ,” Tony grunted. Fuck Howard and his work – he wasn’t here for _him_ , and there was no way he was going to go haul Howard’s wrinkly ass out of the fire after everything he had just read. Howard could go fuck himself with a rusty toaster.

“Tony,” Howard sighed. “Are you even _listening_ to me?”

“No. You listen to me – I’m here to get Steve and get out – that’s it,” Tony said.

“ _Steve_?” Howard snarled. “What the _hell_ are you talking about?”

“Steve – _Rogers_. You know, the cute little blonde guy you have locked up in one of your containment cells?” Tony drawled. “I’m pretty sure you know who I’m talking about, so cut the shit,”

Howard’s laugh was so loud, Tony had to pull the phone away from his ear. “Dear _god_ – you think he’s alive,” Howard said. “That’s cute,”

Tony scowled. “I _know_ he’s alive. He’s been popping up all over the place – don’t lie to me,”

“Tony,” Howard said with a long, drawn-out sigh. “Listen to me,”

“I’ve _been_ listening to you,” Tony snapped.

“Then get this through your thick skull. _Steve Rogers_ died twelve years ago – he just doesn’t know it yet,” Howard said, coldly.

“You’re wrong,” Tony said.

“I don’t know how you found out about him, but you need to let this go,” Howard said, his flippant tone turning waspish. Tony was fairly certain that if he could see Howard, he would find the man’s fists balled up tightly. “ _Steve Rogers_ was out of control and we took care of it – _I_ took care of it. You can’t let him out of that room. If you do, he’ll kill everyone he sees. This isn’t a _game_. You can’t reason with a monster like him,”

“He’s not a _monster_ ,” Tony said, softly. He didn’t think of Steve like that – _couldn’t_ think of Steve that way. Granted, he didn’t know Steve very well, but Steve hadn’t seemed like the kind of person who wanted to hurt someone for no good reason. After hearing all about Project: Rebirth, Tony felt pretty confident in saying that Steve had a damn good reason for lashing out – if that was what it was he was doing.

“He’s _worse_ than a monster,” Howard said, impatiently. “A _monster_ we could have dealt with. We have _plenty_ of monsters here – they can be contained and molded to fit our needs, but Steve’s not like that. He’s got a sweet smile and a childlike quality to him, but he’s strong enough to kill everyone in this building with a simple _thought_.”

“You’re wrong,” Tony grunted.

“I am not _wrong_! I ran all the tests _personally_! I know how fucking _strong_ he is, _boy_!” Howard snarled.

“You don’t get it,” Tony sighed. He thought about hurling the phone across the room and settled for pinching the bridge of his nose instead. “I’ve talked with him. He’s not a bad person. He’s never hurt me before and I don’t think he wants to hurt anyone – at least not _intentionally_ ,”

“If you believe that, you’re going to get your head torn off,” Howard snorted. “ _You_ haven’t been pinned to a wall or blown down a corridor when he has a temper tantrum. Steve Rogers is not a man to be trifled with. If you see him, you should run like hell. Chances are, he’ll kill you if you don’t,”

“What did you do with Barnes?” Tony asked. “That’s why Steve went crazy on you, isn’t it? He did it for a reason – not just on a whim,”

Howard fell silent.

“You lost Barnes. That’s it, right? You lost Barnes and then you lost Steve,” Tony said. “Sounds like _you’re_ the reason everything went to shit in this place,”

“I did not _lose_ him,” Howard growled, his voice dangerously low. “Barnes died in combat training,”

“So where is he then? Where did he go down?” Tony asked.

“That’s classified,” Howard said, stiffly.

“You don’t know, do you?” Tony snorted. “Jesus – how did you keep your job?”

“I kept it because unlike you, I am the genius who single handily _built_ this company,” Howard hissed.

“What did you expect would happen after you lost Barnes? Did you think Steve was going to smile and behave himself when you told him he couldn’t go looking for his friend – that no one was going to go looking for Barnes. You bastard! You didn’t even let him say goodbye,”

“You don’t know anything,” Howard snapped. “He was being unreasonable,”

“Who? Barnes? Or Steve?” Tony said.

“I don’t have the time to explain every little thing, _Anthony_ ,” Howard said. “You need to grow up. Learn how to focus on the task at hand – stop messing around in the past like a child. You _always_ do this – you can’t ever let _anything_ go, can you? You got it from you mother – I never should have let that bitch spend so much time with you,”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Tony snarled. He hung up the phone and dropped it on the table in front of him. He was so angry, he was shaking. He slumped in his chair, hiding his face in his hands. Was this what he was condemned to? Was he going to live with his asshole of a father breathing down his neck for the rest of his life?

Still, despite his growing rage, Howard’s words nagged at him.

Would Steve really hurt him? He didn’t want to admit it, but Howard wasn’t completely wrong. The man might be a psychotic, raging, douchebag, but he knew his stuff, and if his tests – whatever the hell _those_ had been – had told him that Steve was dangerous, then he probably was.

Tony turned the chair slowly around; he could hear someone crying behind him.

There, sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his bare legs, was Steve. The way he was sitting made him look so small and frail; it seemed like even the glow of the computer monitor might hurt him. Tony pushed the chair back slowly, telegraphing his every move as he stood up. If this was his last chance to talking with Steve, he was going to take it, danger or no danger.

“Steve?” Tony called out.

Steve sniffled and looked up. His eyes were watery and bloodshot. He wiped at his eyes and frowned at Tony.

“Steve? Honey? It’s Tony,” Tony said, moving closer. He froze when the tables and chairs around him began to tap-dance in place. If felt like there was something was coursing through the air; he could feel something _crawling_ across his skin. Something tugged at his shoulder. He dropped down to his knees so he wasn’t so tall and imposing. “Steve? It’s alright – I’m not going to hurt you. I’m your friend, remember?” he murmured.

The room stopped shaking. Steve pursed his lips and gave his head a shake. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He let out a frustrated grunt.

“Yes, it’s me. It’s Tony,” Tony said. He inched forwards on his knees, moving so slowly it hurt. “It’s me. You’re alright,”

Steve shook his head.

“Ok,” Tony sighed. “It’s not ok, but it’s going to be. I’m going to find you and get you out of here, alright? We’re going to leave,”

Steve frowned. The room began to shake again. The posters on the walls fell and scattered onto the floor as though tossed there. The tables screeched as they were dragged across the floor; the computer rocked back and forth, the light from the monitor blinding Tony temporarily.

Still, Tony didn’t back down. He refused to be scared. He inched forwards again until his knees were pressed up against Steve’s. “Steve?” Tony said, reaching out. “Steve? It’s ok,”

Steve looked up at Tony. His eyes started to water; he burst into tears and vanished before Tony could touch him.

The room went still.

 

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice was sharp in Tony’s ear.

Tony looked up from the patch of floor where Steve had been sitting and tapped his comm. “Hey, Pep,” he sighed. “What’s up?”

“How are you doing up there? Did you get to your armor yet? Or are you still fucking around?” Pepper asked.

“I haven’t made it to the armor yet,” Tony said with a grimace. “I got _sidetracked_ ,”

“What the hell were you doing up there? You’ve been radio silent for over an hour!” Pepper snapped.

“Yeah, man,” Rhodey grunted through the comm. “I was starting to think we’d lost you,”

Tony scowled and stood up, rubbing the life back into his knees; he had been wondering why they were aching so badly. He wondered idly if Steve had warped time somehow when he had appeared. Maybe he was just tired and had passed out without knowing it. He glanced down at his phone to double check what had happened and sure enough, he had lost over an hour. Had Steve done it on purpose, or had it been an accident? Whatever the case, he needed to get moving before someone found him. It felt like he would never get to sit down again. He checked his phone and stuffed it away with an irritated huff. Howard had called him over _twenty times_ during that lost hour; apparently Howard hadn’t understood the whole _fuck you_ thing.

Tony peered out the door and yanked himself back out of sight. “Shit,” he whispered, turning off his flashlight. He squashed himself against the wall, trying to become as flat as possible. “Pep? I’ve got a problem,”

“Let me guess,” Pepper sighed, wearily. “You’re surrounded by men with big guns?”

“There are ten of them,” Tony said, trying to be helpful. “And that’s only the ones I could see.”

“Who are they?” Rhodey growled.

“Well, I can’t exactly go through their wallets for their drivers licences, but I’m thinking they’re Hydra,” Tony grumbled. He hugged the wall when one of the agents turned towards him and followed it towards the door that lead to the other end of the hall. If he was lucky, the bastards would be too busy looking in other rooms to spot him.

Someone stepped around the corner and tried the door Tony was heading for.

Tony panicked and dove headfirst under the board room table. He glanced around at the paper and chairs left scattered around. Please, please, please, let them think that they’ve already cleared this room out, he thought.

Someone tried the door again. They gave it a kick when it still refused to open and then hit it with something heavy. The door didn’t budge.

Tony pulled his gun out of his bag and turned the safety off. He had been nursing the idea of never needing to use it, but if this was what had to happen, he was going to go out shooting. He might not be able to take down ten armed soldiers like Pepper or Rhodey, but he was going to try to at least get one or two.

Someone tried the door again and then swore. “Fuck _this_ ,” a man’s gruff voice said from the hallway. “These are board rooms – No one’s going to be here at this hour. This is a waste of time,”

“What the fuck did you expect was up here? A goddamned Christmas party?” someone else muttered. “Fine – let’s just get back to searching the offices. This place gives me the creeps. If I see that scrawny fucker disappear through the walls one more time I’m going to shove you at him and run,”

Someone laughed.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, each one getting quieter and quieter until the hallway fell silent.

Tony let out a long, slow, breath. He remained hidden underneath the table, his legs cramping, unwilling to move. Was this a trap? Could the Hydra agents have seen signs of him? Were they that smart? He waited five minutes and then another ten before creeping out from under the table. He slunk over to the door and peered out, his fingers tightly gripping the butt of the gun. No one was around. He was alone again. He let out a shaky laugh. “Rhodey?” he whispered into the comm. “You there?”

“I’m here. Are you alright?” Rhodey said.

“I’m fine,” Tony said. “I got lucky. They decided it wasn’t worth searching the board rooms,”

“Good,” Pepper said. “I’m still stuck on the floor below you. There’s a bunch of _assholes_ blocking the stairwell,”

“Hydra?” Tony asked.

“That’s what the badges say,” Pepper said, dryly. “They haven’t seen me yet, but there are too many of them to take out. You’re on your own up there, Tony. I’m going to have to go hunting – maybe they’ll spread out a little if I’m lucky,”

“I’m stuck behind a roadblock,” Rhodey grumbled. “The bastards took over the hallway near the hatch. I can’t get through – I think I’ll do some hunting of my own,”

“Crap,” Tony said, glancing out the window. The hallway was still empty from what he could see, but he didn’t trust it to stay that way for long. He didn’t bother turning his flashlight back on. He did, however, flip the safety back on in the gun; he stuffed it back into his pocket. Jiggling the door handle, he slipped the door open and scurried out, keeping his head down and his hand against the wall. He tapped his way along in the dark. He stopped when he hit the next door and decided to risk turning his flashlight on just to get a look at his next hiding place. He peered anxiously through the window beside him, not enjoying the open space. Nothing inside the board room looked like it had been disturbed, and there was a distinctly _abandoned_ feeling to the place; he grinned. Someone must have been using this room for storage, because there were far too many cardboard boxes lying around and not nearly enough table or chair space. Tony turned his flashlight off and tapped his keycard against the sensor. He let the door close quietly behind him, and tiptoed further into the room on the off chance that someone was still lurking outside.

A split second after the door shut, the sound of heavy boots hitting the floor tore through the hall. Tony ducked underneath the table, hugging his toolkit and flashlight to his chest. He peered around a large, beaten-up cardboard box, eyeing the door. He jerked his head back when he saw a red flashlight beam streak across the floor. Shit. Someone was up here; he had been wrong – so wrong. He peeked out again when he saw the flashlight beam vanish. It was dark, but Tony could still make out the shape of a man standing in front of the door. It was hard to get much of a look at him, but what Tony did catch made his blood run cold. If he had to guess, the guys arm was made out of some kind of _metal_ and it seemed to be reflecting the red beam from his flashlight. The goggles and mask the man was wearing completely obscured his facial features. Once the light was gone, he seemed to vanish entirely into the shadows.

“Tony?” Pepper hissed through the comms. “We have a problem,”

Tony listened cautiously as footsteps echoed and disappeared down the hall. The elevator dinged in the distance.

“Fury just sent me a message,” Pepper said.

“Fury? I thought this was a private party?” Tony whispered.

Rhodey chuckled. “It was, but he begged an invite,”

“Enough screwing around,” Pepper snapped.

Tony hadn’t heard her this frustrated in a long time – not since she had done her entrance exams; normally she was all business, calm and collected when she did any old thing. He couldn’t blame her for snapping, though. He felt a little jittery himself. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are we in trouble? Did he leave the stove on?”

“Hydra sent in one of their top procurement Agents,” Pepper said, grimly.

“Really,” Tony snorted. “And what does _he_ do? Does he deal in real-estate?”

“No, _smartass_ ,” Rhodey grumbled, “He’s called the Winter Soldier and he’s one of their top _assassins_ ,”

Tony leaned his forehead heavily against the box in front of him. “Why would they send an assassin now? They’ve got death squads wandering the halls,”

“Fury says this guy is here for a very specific target,” Pepper said. “He thinks the Winter Soldier is after Howard,”

Tony chuckled bitterly. “Who isn’t? Howard’s a dick,”

“Did you talk to him recently?” Pepper said, with a hint of a smile in her voice. “I know that tone,”

“We may have had _words_ ,” Tony growled. “He claims the Board panicked when they found out about the building being taken over, but he didn’t say what they were going to do about it.”

“Did he avoid answering your questions, or did he not know the answers?” Rhodey asked. “Think _carefully_ , Tony.”

Tony grinned sheepishly. “I _may_ have hung up on him before he could finish his spiel,”

“ _Tony_ ,” Rhodey groaned. “ _Fuck_ , man! You can’t just hang up on him – at least not today. I get that he’s a grade-a-asshole, but what if what he had to say was important?”

“I think he left me a message,” Tony admitted, reluctantly. He fished his phone out of his pocket, glaring down at it. Buying himself time, he peered out around the cardboard box he was being sheltered by, to see if there was anyone in the hallway; there wasn’t. That didn’t strictly mean he was alone, but it did mean that he could have privacy – not that he wanted it. He listened for the sound of the elevator opening and closing before he put the phone to his ear and then proceeded to check his voicemail. “Oh look,” he muttered into the comm, “I was _wrong_. He left me _twenty messages_. I think that’s more than he’s left me in the last ten years combined,”

“Check them,” Pepper ordered.

“Hold your horses,” Tony grumbled. “I’m doing it now.”

“Tony?” Howard’s voice was shrill and tinny in the recording. “Tony – stop being a baby and answer the damn phone!”

Tony skipped to the next message. Every single one seemed to be a variation of the first; a few made it clear that Tony’s mother was a bitch, and that he never should have been born. Wasn’t _that_ delightful.

“Lovely listening to you, Howard,” Tony muttered, skipping to the next message. Maybe the bastard was going to tell him he was _adopted_ next. Wouldn’t that be a nice surprise! Howard always had been disappointed with him; maybe there was an actual reason for all the resentment.

The last message was the only one that had any value.

“Tony,” Howard’s anger seemed to have dissipated. He sounded resigned, as though he finally understood that Tony would not be answering him. “You need to get out of here. The Board only has two actions when it comes to security breaches like this. They either send in a security team or they bomb the shit out of the place from the air.”

Tony dropped his phone.

Howard continued to ramble on through the speaker.

“Obadiah Stane has them convinced the building is doomed. That bastard has been whispering lies into everyone’s ears for years now – did I ever tell you that? That’s why I had to keep you on such a short leash, you know. It wasn’t because I wanted to do it. He convinced the Board that you were going to screw up and cost us millions of dollars,” Howard said. He let out a tired sigh. “Look – that’s not important now. What _is_ important is that you get the hell out of here before someone in Hydra finds you – I won’t have them using you against me, boy. That’s not an option. I’m going to try and take as much of my research as possible and get out – I’m calling in a few favors with SHIELD and if we’re lucky, we won’t be blown to bits. You better listen to me this time, Tony. Stay out of trouble.”

The message ended with a click.

Tony picked up the phone and stared suspiciously at it. He had never been sure when to trust Howard’s definition of the word bad; most of the time, things had always ended up being far, _far_ worse than Howard had predicted. Tony tapped his comm, but before he could speak, Pepper broke in.

“So, I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say all of us just heard that,” Pepper murmured.

“You did?” Tony let out a bark of a laugh. At least he wasn’t going to have to repeat everything. Hearing it had been bad enough; repeating it would be like dumping vinegar on and open wound.

“You left the comm open, _dummy_ ,” Rhodey snorted. “What did you expect?”

“Ok,” Tony grumbled. “Fine. So what do we do now?”

“Well, first thing’s first. There is an assassin wandering the halls looking for Howard. You look a lot like him, Tones,” Rhodey sighed. “This is a problem,”

“ _Hey_!” Tony snapped. He hadn’t been this offended in years! “I do _not_ look like my father!”

“You do in the _dark_ ,” Rhodey said, flatly. “And that’s likely the only look he’s going to get at you,”

“Right,” Tony said with a bitter smile. When Rhodey was right, he was right. He hated that he looked like his father – always had, but he knew it was a truth he couldn’t ignore, even if it did make him want to throw up. “So what do I do?” he asked. “Should I go buy pair of thick glasses and a wig? I don’t have a lot of options up here,”

“Well, for starters I’d get to your armor. The thick glasses and the wig can wait,” Pepper said. “Is it safe for you to move?”

Tony peered out from behind his box. “It looks like it,” he said. He moved back to turn his flashlight on again, and fumbled with the buttons. “Alright. That’s the plan. I’m going to head upstairs and get my armor. You two stay safe,”

“You too, Tony,” Rhodey said.

Pepper chuckled. “ _ Both _ of you keep safe. I am  _ not _ dragging your asses out of here,”

“You will if you have to,” Rhodey said. “We know you too well, Pep.”

Tony stood up slowly. His back ached bitterly from having to kneel for so long, yet  _ again _ , and he was glad to be moving, even if it was in the dark and there were homicidal murderers lurking at every turn. Groaning, he stretched out; his back cracked, the sound more satisfying than ever before. He stepped out from behind the box and found himself staring directly at the man he had been hoping to avoid; the light from his flashlight glinted off of the man’s goggles. Tony pressed his hand to his comm.

“Guys?” he said, his voice a mere squeak.

“Yes?” Pepper said, sweetly.

“Does this Winter Soldier guy wander around wearing a full face mask and goggles?” Tony asked, smiling nervously at the man through the door.

“Uh,” Rhodey coughed. “They don’t actually have any decent picture of him, but I’m pretty sure the file mentioned something about goggles. Why are you asking?”

“I’m uh, looking right at him,” Tony said, stepping backwards. He tipped over the topmost box as he tried to steady himself, but didn’t look to see where it fell. The man standing in front of him didn’t have a gun in his hands, just a flashlight, but Tony still felt as though he was one second away from getting shot.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if you spot anything weird and I'll fix it! :D Also, feel free to tell me if I missed any tags!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Soldier wasn't playing around - but neither was Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for violence, mentions of past child abuse/neglect and for Howard being a douchebag. Warnings also for human testing (as usual) : )

“I’m not Howard,” Tony called out. He wondered if the Winter Soldier could even _hear_ him, or if all the other man could see was his mouth moving. It looked there was a lot of padding on that face mask, and the door had been designed to keep important, _classified_ , information safe from enemy spies; he didn’t know the exact specs on the door, but he suspected that it, and the mask, had at least _muffled_ his voice.

The Winter Soldier stepped forwards and knocked on the door, aiming his red flashlight into the room, bathing Tony in red.

Tony blinked, covering his eyes, and swallowed hard. He was suddenly glad he hadn’t stopped to pick up a can of soda earlier; he was fairly certain he would have pissed himself if he had anything in his bladder.

The Winter Soldier knocked on the door again and then gestured to the door handle with one shiny, metal, finger. He was a good two and half inches taller than Tony, and at least a hundred pounds heavier; he seemed to radiate danger.

“And _why_ would I let you in here?” Tony asked. He puffed himself, faking bravado. He could do this. He had taken an acting course in first year – he knew what he was doing. “I’m not stupid, you know. I know who you are,” he said. “You’re the Winter Soldier,”

The man punched the door with his metal arm; the glass cracked.

Tony fumbled his phone and nearly dropped it. He smiled nervously at the Winter Soldier. He was screwed, and he knew it. If he opened the door, he was going to be attacked, and a quick look around the room told him that he wasn’t going to be making a grand escape; the only way in and out was through that one, glass door.

Tony looked around again, stalling for time.

If the Winter Soldier intended to come in, a goddamned _lock_ wasn’t going to stop him, so why had he taken so long to appear? The bastard must have been looking for a way in – he must have known that Tony was in here. Tony shuddered; he could have been dead five times over already and he hadn’t even realized it.

The Winter Soldier rapped delicately on the door with his metal knuckle and crooked a finger at Tony.

Tony swallowed down his fear. This might _not_ be bad – he needed to stay hopeful. He had a gun, and even though the Winter Soldier was a trained killer, he might still be able to talk his way out of this. Tony put his free hand into the pocket where he had hidden his gun, and sauntered over to unlock the door; it swung open with a swish.

The Winter Soldier sprang into action.

Tony hit the floor like a sack of potatoes as. He wound up with the Winter Soldier’s knee pressing into the middle of his chest, and his gun halfway across the room. His phone and toolkit landed with a thump beside him; they were quickly swatted out of range. Terrified, Tony tried to smile and pretend that he was anything other than scared shitless.

It didn’t work.

Staring straight into the Winter Soldier’s lifeless goggle-covered eyes was the worst idea Tony had made in _years_ ; the red glow of the flashlight made the Winter Soldier look like a walking _nightmare_.

The Winter Soldier pressed his knee down a little harder, driving the air from Tony’s lungs. “Where is he?” he asked, his voice a soft hiss.

“He, _who_?” Tony gasped. He forced himself to stay still, fearing what would happen if he tried to fight back. If this was what he got for simply _opening the door_ , the Winter Soldier could obviously do much, much worse.

“Howard Stark,” the Winter Soldier growled. “Where is he?”

Tony grimaced and took in a careful, calculated, breath before answering. “I don’t know,”

The Winter Soldier pressed his knee down harder. “You’re lying,”

“I’m not,” Tony wheezed. His vision was swimming and there were black dots floating around in front of his eyes. He knew what it was like to pass out from lack of air; bullies had choked him out on more than one occasion while he was at high school and Ty had enjoyed choking him until he passed out during sex. Tony hated blacking out more than anything. He clawed feebly at the Winter Soldier’s boot, desperate to keep himself conscious. “I don’t know where he is,” he managed to get out. “I don’t know!”

The Winter Soldier sighed wearily, as though he were a kindergarten teacher with an especially stubborn student, and lifted his knee a little, letting Tony draw in a breath. “You’re Howard’s son, correct?” he asked.

“He’s never actually called me that, but yeah. We’re _related_ ,” Tony gasped. He sucked in a new mouthful of air; it had never tasted so sweet before.

“Don’t bother trying to protect him,” The Winter Soldier said. He leaned in even closer, letting Tony get a better look at his mask. There were flecks of blood splattered on the black plastic, and the mess looked fresh. “Where is Howard Stark?” The Winter Soldier growled dangerously.

Tony coughed out the last of his precious air and clawed at the Winter Soldier’s boot again, half-ferral. “I don’t know! You can ask me as many times as you want, but I don’t know where he is! He didn’t tell me where he was or where he was going!”

“Bullshit,” the Winter Soldier retorted. “You’re his son,”

“He hates me,” Tony spat out.

“ _Bullshit_ ,” The Winter Soldier snorted. “Stop _lying_ to me,”

“I’m not lying,” Tony rasped. He fought off a new wave of dizziness and fell silent, taking in fast, shallow breath as soon as the Winter Soldier shifted his weight a little. Why didn’t anyone ever believe him when he said that his father hated his guts? Everyone seemed so convinced that Howard Stark was a fucking _perfect_ father; it wasn’t just the media that made the mistake, either. A lot of people just looked at Howard’s charming smile and assumed that he did what was best for his family. No one had ever believed _Tony_ – not even when he had showed up at the ER with a broken arm and ribs. They had listened blandly, smiling at Howard the entire time, agreeing with how _clumsy_ Tony must have been. Howard had told the right story – mostly. Yes, it was true. Tony had broken his arm and ribs because he had gotten in the way while Howard was working, but Howard hadn’t rushed Tony to the ER like he had claimed. He had _waited_ , finished up his work and _then_ taken Tony there with Jarvis, the family butler, so he wouldn’t have to drive. Tony had lay splayed on the floor for over two hours before anyone had paid any attention to him. He had known then just how worthless he was to his father – how replaceable, and pathetic he really was. Jarvis had been horrified when Tony had told him, and had helped ease the pain, but he hadn’t been able to get rid of the awful truth.

Howard had never had any other children, despite his constant complaints, but he had wanted them. Maria had been unable to give him new heirs; the rumors that Tony had heard later while at boarding school told of different girlfriends, of children who had been paid and cared for on the sly. Maybe their mothers loved Howard; maybe those poor, unknowing children, would have thought Howard Stark was worth protecting, but to Tony, Howard was already as good as dead.

The Winter Soldier lifted his knee again. “Fine,” he grumbled. He let Tony get in a few breaths and then leaned forwards again, letting the tip of Tony’s nose press against the mask. “Where does Howard work?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Tony said. He flinched when the Winter Soldier raised his metal hand as if to hit him. “He has a workshop and office on the top floor. I assume he works there, but who knows? Maybe he works on the fucking _moon_ ,” he said, cracking a weak grin. “I told you – he doesn’t tell me things, and I don’t ask,”

“I see,” the Winter Soldier grunted. “Alright.” He eased himself off of Tony and stood up, letting the red flashlight beam land on the floor instead of on Tony’s face. “It’s your lucky day. You can take me to his office and in exchange, I won’t kill you here and now.” He gestured to the lanyard and keycard that had slipped out of Tony’s pocket and was lying on the floor beside Tony’s hip. “I’m betting that’ll let you in any room you want to go – even _if_ your father hates you,”

Tony sat up slowly. Did the Winter Soldier think that _Howard_ had handed over the keycard? If he did, then Hydra’s intelligence wasn’t all that great. In fact, it must have been downright garbage.

“What are you going to do with Howard when you find him?” Tony asked. He rubbed at his ribs, the ache all too familiar. Maybe Hydra wanted to recruit Howard so he could mop their floors for the rest of his life – or maybe scrub their bathrooms with a toothbrush. That was a nice thought – unlikely, but nice.

The Winter Soldier paused, as if pondering the question. “He has access to someone my employers want,” he said. “That’s my mission. The rest doesn’t concern you,”

“Right,” Tony sighed, still rubbing his chest. He was royally screwed, but there was one good thing about being dragged around by the Winter Soldier, murderer extraordinaire; at least he’d have his own personal escort up to the top floors. Now if only he could convince the Winter Soldier to take a brief detour into his workshop.

The Winter Soldier held out his hand. Tony stared blankly at it.

“Hand over the comm – now,” The Winter Soldier said.

Tony pulled the comm out of his ear. He had been hoping it would escape notice, but that was the thing with trained killers; they never forgot the _little_ details. He watched as the Winter Soldier crushed the comm under a heavy, steel-toed boot and prayed that Rhodey and Pepper would figure out a way to help him while keeping themselves out of trouble.

 

 

 

Tony stumbled along in front of the Winter Soldier, following the beam of their combined flashlights; he had been allowed to take his flashlight, bag and toolkit, but had been stripped of his gun. He wasn’t happy about the situation, but knew better than to complain – at least out loud. He was lucky to still have his tools; the kit itself was heavy, and it was a miracle the Winter Soldier had let him keep it considering it could be used as a weapon. He hoped he looked sufficiently pathetic and unthreatening. With the toolkit in hand, he might be able to escape.

The elevator was jammed; even Tony’s toolkit couldn’t fix it. They were forced to take the stairs to the next floor on their journey to Howard’s penthouse office. The fire doors were free of barricades and while that was a pleasant surprise, it made it clear that those who had been in the upper levels of the building were either long gone, or already dead. Whatever the case, this floor was where he needed to be. His workshop was here and it would be easy to get at his suit when they came to it; his fingers itched for the armor – once he had it, he would be safe at last.

Tony’s plans stalled when he rounded the corner and came face to face with the first locked door; he whipped out his keycard when the Winter Soldier cleared his throat and blipped them through the door with the Winter Soldier’s cold metal hand clamped onto his shoulder to keep him from running. They were now on the wrong side of the building, Tony realized as he caught sight of lab 104, and even though he had had plenty of time to brainstorm on the way up, he couldn’t think of a plausible excuse to lead the Winter Soldier directly to his workshop. It would look a little too suspicious to just blurt out a direction change. Suspicious behavior was bad; he needed to look meek, not smart right now. The Winter Soldier’s hand was heavy, and he had a feeling that if he so much as _suggested_ a route change, he would find his shoulder crushed. He went back to brainstorming. He could try and tell the Winter Soldier that Howard was hiding on _this_ floor – on second thought, no. He couldn’t do that after telling the guy that he didn’t know where Howard was. Again – suspicious behavior _bad_. He wondered idly where Pepper and Rhodey were. Hell, he wondered where Natasha, Tiberius and Clint were. He hadn’t heard any explosions or gunfire lately, but that didn’t necessarily mean there hadn’t been any; without his comm, he was cut completely from their world. Were they alive? Had they been taken out by Hydra? Were they close?

Tony nearly had a heart attack when they walked past a Hydra Soldier. He tensed, reaching for the gun that was no longer in his pocket, and dove for cover, ducking into a doorway. The Winter Soldier’s laugh was strangely warm.

“What are you _doing_?” The Winter Soldier asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Hiding,” Tony said from his doorway.

“They’re with _me_ ,” The Winter Soldier said dryly. “I know you’re short, but you don’t need to worry about them picking on you,”

Tony glowered at the Winter Soldier and peeked out from around the door frame, unconvinced of his safety.

The Hydra soldier walked past Tony’s doorway and left them alone, heading back into a lab, seemingly content in continuing his pillaging; the next three soldiers that passed by did the same thing. No one seemed to be willing to so much as _blink_ at the Winter Soldier. It was as if he simply didn’t exist. Just what did the Winter Soldier mean to Hydra? Why had he been lurking up here instead of down below helping with the murder and mayhem? The man obviously had pull within Hydra’s ranks, but _why_? What exactly had the Winter Soldier done that would warrant this kind of behavior – aside from assassinations, of course.

“Get out of there,” The Winter Soldier grumbled. He grabbed Tony by the arm and manhandled him out of the doorway and into the hallway. “I told you. As long as you take me to Howard, I’ll keep you alive,”

Tony smiled nervously. “Right – right. Sorry,”

The Winter Soldier sighed. “Just get walking, Stark,”

They reached the elevator and found the call button to Howard’s floor locked.

Tony chuckled darkly, valiantly resisting the urge to rub his hands together in glee. The upper floors always had been a no-go zone to the regular staff; he was pretty sure it would be that way until Howard was dead and in his grave – and maybe even after that. Howard Stark was extremely possessive of his free time, and he absolutely hated being disturbed, even if it was for something important. More than five secretaries and assistants had been fired unceremoniously during the past three months for making _that_ mistake; one of them had even, reportedly, saved Howard from a small fire, but that hadn’t stopped him from firing _her_ for disturbing him in order to do it. No one was allowed up top unless it someone Howard had expressly invited and Tony had _never_ been invited – at least not as an adult. As a child he had seen the floor once, but he doubted that his memory would be useful. Things were bound to have changed since he was six, after all. Up there was no-man’s land and he would need to fabricate a plausible way up – or, preferably, a real way up. Suddenly, Howard’s assholish need to police his workspaces was working in Tony’s favor; that was both frightening and delightful.

The Winter Soldier stiffened and jabbed at the elevator call button. When it refused to do anything other than open the elevator doors over and over again, revealing a bottomless chasm and no elevator car, he let out a frustrated hiss and took off his goggles and mask. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. Even though he was a trained killer, Tony could appreciate the guy’s face. The Winter Soldier seemed to _smoulder_ ; sure, his hair was long and greasy, but it framed his face in a way that made his eyes seem _almost_ alive. His expression, on the other hand, was about as dead as you could get without actually being, well, _dead_.

The Winter Soldier tossed the goggles and mask away and peered into the elevator shaft. “Is there another way up there?” he asked.

“Short of scaling the building itself? No,” Tony said, carefully watching the Winter Soldier’s movements. He didn’t exactly want to get tossed down an elevator shaft for being _snarky_ ; he might be good with heights, but that didn’t mean he wanted to get up close and personal with them.

“ _Great_ ,” The Winter Soldier grunted. “I’m betting that’s torch proof and bullet proof,” he said, gesturing to the metal plate that sealed the top of the elevator shaft up tightly.

Tony smiled sweetly. “Howard _loves_ his privacy,”

The Winter Soldier clenched his metal fist. “Alright Stark. Make yourself useful. How do we get up there?”

“Uh, well for one, using my body as a projectile probably isn’t going to be all that effective,” Tony said, with a wink.

The Winter Soldier snorted and turned away. Tony swore he _almost_ saw a smile.

“My workshop is on this floor,” Tony said, clearing his throat. He hoped to god he sounded _casual_ , because he couldn’t tell anymore; anything was better than terrified, though, so if he sounded deranged it would just have to do. “I can probably find something in there to jimmy the door open and what not,” he said.

“You’re a weapons specialist, right?” The Winter Soldier drawled.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Tony said with a shrug. “I prefer the title of Electrical Engineer and designer, but yeah. I’m a weapons specialist, I guess,”

“So you have _weapons_ in your lab,” The Winter Soldier said, turning back to face Tony. His eyes were narrowed dangerously.

“That I do,” Tony said. He knew better than to lie to the Winter Soldier’s face; he liked his fingers the way they were – _unbroken_ and attached to his hand. “It’s not stocked with explosives if that’s what you’re asking. I was working on some stuff that wasn’t for the military this month. I mean, I think I can get you up to Howard’s floor with what I’ve got on hand, but what am I going to get out of it?”

The Winter Soldier scowled; in the red light of his flashlight, it looked like he had pulled on a new mask. “I’ll leave you _alive_. How does that sound?”

“It sounds _highly_ unlikely,” Tony said. He set his flashlight down on top of his tool kit and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve heard the rumors, pal. Hydra isn’t letting _anyone_ walk out of here and you taking off the goggles and mask? That pretty much tells me I’m a dead man walking,”

“What makes you think I can’t grant you immunity?” The Winter Soldier asked.

“What makes _you_ think you _can_?” Tony asked.

The Winter Soldier frowned.

“You’re a hired assassin,” Tony said. “You’re not exactly the leader of this little clusterfuck of a gathering. You’re a _grunt_ – just like the rest of the assholes here,”

The Winter Soldier moved fast. Tony found himself pinned up against the wall with the Winter Soldier’s metal hand wrapped around his throat. He choked on what little air he had managed to take in before the assault and hung against the wall, dangling with his feet a good two inches above the ground.

Well, _that_ had been a bad idea. Note to self, he thought, never taunt the Winter Soldier about being a grunt.

“You don’t know me, Stark,” the Winter Soldier growled.

“That’s true,” Tony gasped. He wrapped his hands around the Winter Soldier’s metal forearm. “But I know men like Howard. They run things and they don’t like the _peons_ getting in the way. They won’t just sit by and let deals happen unless it’s for their benefit and what use am I to them?”

“You make weapons for SI,” The Winter Soldier said. “You can make weapons for Hydra just as easily,”

“Why would I _want_ to?” Tony said. “There isn’t anything there they can offer me I can’t get somewhere else,”

“Your _life_ doesn’t count?” The Winter Soldier scoffed. “I’m sure they’d pay you if you asked _nicely_ ,”

“I don’t need money,” Tony mumbled. His head was swimming again, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he passed out. “I make my own money – and I make my own decisions. But I’m open to _trades_ ,”

“Trades?” the Winter Soldier asked.

“I want to get a friend of mine out of here,” Tony said.

“A friend,” the Winter Soldier murmured. He set Tony down and loosened his grip but didn’t remove his fingers from around Tony’s throat. “Are you talking about the SHIELD agents in the building?”

“They can take care of themselves,” Tony said. He hoped to god he was right. He knew Pepper and Rhodey could and would do whatever it took to get out of the building alive. It wasn’t them he was worried about – it was Steve who needed the real help.

“So who’s your friend?” The Winter Soldier asked.

“His name is Steve,” Tony said. He reached up, but couldn’t rub at his throat – not with the Winter Soldier’s hand in the way. He let his hands drop back to his sides in case the guy took it as him attempting to struggle.

“ _Steve_ ,” the Winter Soldier said. He frowned. “Is he a technician or something?”

“He’s a _friend_ ,” Tony said. “I don’t know what he does for a living,”

“He’s your friend, but you don’t know what he does?” The Winter Soldier chuckled.

“What can I say?” Tony said, cracking a grin. “I’m a bad listener.”

“Right,” The Winter Soldier snorted.

“What? Are you trying to defend my honor or something?” Tony said. He rolled his eyes. “Ask anyone – I’m _shit_ with people,”

“Whatever,” The Winter Soldier muttered. “Look,” he said, glancing back at the open elevator shaft. “If you can get me up there, I’ll get you out of here – you and your _friend_.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“No one is going to say no to me – not while I still need to complete my mission,” The Winter Soldier said, nodding curtly. “I’ll get you and your friend out of here. That’s the deal. Are you in, or am I dropping you down an elevator shaft?”

Tony grinned. “I’m in,”

 

 

Tony tried not to look too excited as they approached his workshop. He could feel the Winter Soldier’s gaze on him and he knew that the guy was watching him; he expected nothing less. He was, after all, a weapon-building prodigy – even if Howard Stark hadn’t ever acknowledged it. He was dangerous in his own way and he didn’t need a gun in his hand to prove it, either.

The emergency lighting kicked in; the floor seemed to glow blue, and while that normally didn’t bother Tony all that much, this time it reminded him of being trapped in ice. Goosebumps broke out all over his skin. It was stupid to think that the building might freeze over, but then again, he knew how much coolant cycled through the system at any given time of day; the computers generated a lot of heat. There was enough coolant here to turn this place into a glacier – assuming of course that someone was stupid enough to sabotage the system in the first place.

The Winter Soldier walked into Tony’s workshop a few steps behind Tony, his red flashlight beam darting across the floor, and whistled. He looked around, seemingly cataloguing everything he laid his eyes on, perhaps already looking for weapons. “That’s a lot of equipment for someone Howard Stark doesn’t like,” The Winter Soldier said.

Tony scowled and headed towards a cupboard where he knew there were a few useable bits of tech. Most of what was in here was magnetic – and that was exactly what he needed. Having a metal arm was a liability, even if it didn’t immediately look like one. The Winter Soldier should have known better; then again, there hadn’t ever been a magnet this powerful before, so if he was lucky, the guy probably wouldn’t even know enough to be worried by it.

Before Tony could pull open the cupboard where his strongest magnet was locked away, he found himself forcibly turned around. The Winter Soldier glared at him; a trickle of blood was running down from his left nostril onto his chin.

“What happened to you?” Tony asked, startled. He gestured to the Winter Soldier’s nose and got his hand swatted away for his trouble. Nursing his bruised thumb, Tony sighed and waited for the next attack.

But it never came.

The Winter Soldier wiped at his nose with his flesh-and-blood hand and stared at it, his brows furrowed. “Who is _he_?” the Winter Soldier asked. He gestured behind him, to the middle of the room, where Steve was standing.

Tony pulled away from the Winter Soldier, and out of his grasp; he stepped around him. “Steve?” he called out.

Steve stared blankly at Tony. He was naked and filthy, his body turned angular, sharp and downright _skeletal_ ; his long blonde hair was tangled and blackened at the ends as thought it had been burned. Even his cheeks had an unhappy, sunken quality to them. If Tony hadn’t seen Steve before in better times, he might have run screaming from the room with or without the Winter Soldier running after him. Steve looked downright _ghoulish_.

The Winter Soldier reached out and grabbed Tony by the shoulder again. “I said – who is that?”

“That’s Steve,” Tony said, pushing the Winter Soldier’s hand away. He approached Steve slowly, keeping his hands raised to show that he wasn’t a threat. “Steve? Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

Steve’s emotionless eyes tracked Tony’s every move. The room began to shake; the equipment Tony had so many hours carefully maintaining floated up in the air as if it weighed nothing. The filing cabinets lined up against the wall shot forwards, smashing into worktables. Paper fluttered around the room, spinning cyclonically as an unearthly howl broke through the silence.

Tony stepped forwards again and nearly got brained by a computer tower as it spun about through the air. He locked eyes with Steve, hoping to catch his interest. “Come on, Steve. You know me – I know you do,” he said. He took another step forwards. A worktable changed course and flew straight at Tony. He held his arms up in front of him, trying to brace for impact and was surprised to find himself yanked out of the way by the Winter Soldier. He thought at first that it had just been an accident. The Winter Soldier couldn’t be protecting _him_ ; the guy was a trained killer who worked for Hydra – not Tony’s friend.

But he was wrong.

The Winter Soldier hauled Tony out of the way and snatched a chair out of the air, dropping his flashlight in the process; he chucked the chair at Steve and dragged Tony towards the door. “You’re right, Stark,” The Winter Soldier grunted, punching a floating desk drawer with his metal fist. “You are _really_ are a shitty listener listening. How do you _not_ know your friend was bat-crap insane?”

Steve turned to face the Winter Soldier. His eyes glinted dangerously in the emergency lights. He padded forwards, hurling objects at the Winter Soldier with his mind.

The Winter Soldier grunted and slapped each offending object away, pushing Tony behind him again. “Stark,” he said, batting away a stapler, “you’d better have something in here strong enough to stop this punk,”

Tony nodded quickly. He knew just the thing. He scanned the room and found what he was looking for. He dove for his electronic lockbox as it whizzed by his head. It was dented and battered from its flight around the room, but it had held up quite well, all things considered; Tony hung off the side of it as it was lifted higher. He tapped in the eighteen digit password, barely looking at it, and yanked the lockbox open. He hit the ground on his ass; the armor toppled over and landed, fully formed, on its side.

“Stark?” The Winter Soldier grunted, deflecting a table with his arm. His flashlight was hurled at him next and he reluctantly hit it, smashing the plastic into bits. “Hurry it up,”

“I _am_ hurrying,” Tony shouted. He shucked his bag, and dropped it to the floor before scooping the miniaturized Arc Reactor from its nest of foam and snapping it into place. He pushed the back of the suit against his chest. “Come on, baby,” he muttered under his breath. “Work – goddamn it! Work!” The Iron Man armor powered up and opened from the back; Tony slipped inside and let it wrap him in its comforting metal embrace. He pushed his feet into the boots and slid his hands into the gauntlets as the back paneling sealed over him. He was now a good three inches taller than normal, and a good two hundred pounds heavier. The Iron Man armor had been designed with heavy combat in mind and it easily withstood the barrage fired at it by Steve. Office equipment wasn’t particularly _dangerous_ , after all – but what _was_ dangerous was locked up in the cabinets on the other side of the room; all of those cabinets were bolted to the floor, so unless Steve really put the effort into it, they weren’t going to be going anywhere anytime soon – but that didn’t mean he couldn’t worry about them. He needed to distract Steve and fast.

Tony took in a shaky breath as the HUD flared to life in front of his eyes. So far, so good. Everything was running at one hundred percent capacity and the Arc Reactor was working without any noticeable problems. He raised his hand and pointed his palm at Steve, keeping the repulsor node embedded there level with Steve’s chest. He wanted to stop Steve – not kill him.

Steve continued to stare at the Winter Soldier, hurling objects at _him_ , this time. His expression had gone pinched and angry.

Cursing, Tony moved to help. He didn’t want to fire directly on Steve with untested weaponry, so instead, he charged the repulsors and aimed at the debris whipping around the room. With the faceplate down, he didn’t feel the shards of plastic that blew back at him as the chair exploded, but the sensors sure as hell picked them up.

“Good evening, sir,” Jarvis said in Tony’s ear. His voice crackled; it was a bug Tony was going to have to fix one day, assuming he survived long enough to fix it. “What can I do for you?” Jarvis asked.

“First thing’s first – Get Pepper and Rhodey on the line – scan for SHIELD’s frequency and hook us up,” Tony said, deflecting a speaker with a flick of his wrist. He scowled as his bag shot into the air and shot out into the hallway; it hit the wall and dropped to the floor. He looked around for his tool kit and saw it floating all by itself; it was trapped against the wall.

“Calibrating now, sir,” Jarvis said. He was silent for a moment and then began to speak again, sounding weary. “I’m afraid the network connections in the suit are not functioning as expected,”

“Meaning?” Tony grunted, punching a coffee cup out of the air. The ceramic cup exploded, showering the suit with dust.

“I am unable to access the communication frequency you have requested,” Jarvis said. “There is too much interference,”

“ _Fucksticks_ ,” Tony muttered. “Keep trying. Let me know when you lock in on them,”

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis said.

The Winter Soldier took a blow to the shoulder and staggered.

Tony slumped in the suit. He aimed his palms at Steve again with reluctance. “I really don’t want to do this, Steve, but you’re not leaving me much of a choice, honey.” He fired his repulsors. The blast hit Steve in the chest and sent him stumbling backwards into a table with a cat-like yowl.

The Winter Soldier jumped backwards, avoiding the rest of Tony’s desk as it jerked past him. The office supplies floating around him stilled, hovering in mid-air. He slid out of the way of the way as a lamp turned away from him.

Steve pushed himself upright. The table he had hit shot backwards into the wall with a screech. Steve’s attention turned solely to Tony; the intensity of his glare made Tony take an unsteady step backwards. The debris in the room went still for a moment as Steve stalked forwards, his movements staggered and spasmodic.

“ _Stark_ ,” The Winter Soldier snapped, nimbly limboing under a plastic potted palm, “If you’re going to do something, you’d better do it _fast_. He doesn’t look happy,”

“I’m _working_ on it,” Tony yelped. His voice came out modulated and emotionless; he was glad for that, because he was fairly certain he wasn’t projecting the cool, calm, demeanor he had been hoping for. The suit’s sensors weren’t quite reading Steve correctly; the numbers and images kept jumping and skipping. It looked as if Steve was disappearing and reappearing over and over again. He hoped that the cameras weren’t malfunctioning – not now. He didn’t have the time or equipment to recalibrate them.

The Winter Soldier cocked an eyebrow. “And how _exactly_ are you working on it? All I see is you batting office supplies out of the air,”

“Keep your pants on. I’ve got this,” Tony grumbled, shooting down a bookshelf. He cringed when his work laptop flew past his head like a lonely buzzard out searching for dinner. That was fine. He hadn’t liked that laptop anyway. “Aww – not my _files_ ,” he whined as a filing cabinet zipped towards him. He grabbed it and grunted as he was pushed backwards. He dug his heels in, scouring twin lines into the floor with the suit’s jetboots and squashed the filing cabinet against the wall; it struggled to break free as Steve tried to lift it up again with his mind but remained firmly lodged in place. Tony, on the other hand, was _not_ so firmly lodged. He felt himself rising up into the air and swung his leg out; he kicked a chair at Steve – it didn’t hit him, but it did distract him enough to let Tony drop back to the ground.

Steve let out a frustrated snarl.

Tony bolted, knowing that if he stayed still, he would likely end up dead. His jetboots were still loading; he needed to stall for time, or they weren’t going to be of any use. “Steve,” he said, pushing his way through the cyclone of debris. “ _Steve_ , you need to stop trying to kill us – we’re on your side!”

The swirling furniture, office supplies and equipment began to spin _faster_.

The suit was just as good as Tony had expected; it didn’t struggle with his commands as he cut his way across the room, dodging a swarm of binders as the pages exploded and floated after him. The jetboots clanked against the floor.

Steve’s expression went blank and indifferent; there was no flicker of recognition in his eyes – no emotion other than, pure, undiluted, anger. He followed Tony’s progress for a moment before turning to the computer console and desk that had been hovering beside him; both of them were sturdy and made of heavy. He sent them streaking across the room as easily as he might hurl a paper airplane.

The recalibration protocol ended just in time; Tony fired up his jetboots and shot up into the air. He spiraled away from the computer console and scanning the ceiling, planning an escape route. There, through a layer of metal and concrete, lay Howard’s personal board room. He had tried calculating the dimensions once when he had been suffering through a creation-slump; counting ceiling tiles had seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, he had supposed somewhat tiredly at the time, it had been better to know what was going to go sky-high if one of his projects didn’t work the way it was supposed to. He smirked. He had the dimensions of that board room down to the very last _inch_ – or at least he _hoped_ he did. He spiraled up towards the ceiling, hoping to direct Steve’s attacks at it. This was their way to Howard’s floor – assuming, of course, that they could blast a big enough hole to get them through. The armor was good, but it was still a prototype. Could he pull it off? He wasn’t so sure he could manage to punch a hole without wiping out all of the Arc Reactor’s power in one shot. Steve, on the other hand, didn’t need a battery to work his magic.

“Stark,” The Winter Soldier yelled, stepping around a flying garbage can. “Stop him or _I_ will,”

Tony pumped more energy into the suit’s jetboots, giving himself an extra burst of speed, and threw himself at Steve. The debris careening towards him was too slow to keep up; he let a coffee cup bounce off of his shoulder and hit the brakes, spinning under the rest of barrage. He reached out, trying to wrap his arms around Steve so he could snatch him up, but there was nothing to grab. There was no time to break; he barreled forwards and crashed into the wall head-first.

Steve was gone.

Tony flipped up the faceplate as debris tumbled down to the floor around him. “Damn it,” he said, banging his fist on the already dented wall. The suit hadn’t taken any damage, but the impact had still stung. He was going to have to tweak the shock absorbers in the suit. That would be number two on the fix list.

“Stark?” The Winter Soldier kicked the broken remains of Tony’s work laptop out of his way. “Did _you_ do that?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Tony said, gingerly rubbing his face with a gauntleted hand. He surveyed the room with displeasure. He was pretty sure it would take a good week and half to set things to rights – if he could find the parts; most of his equipment had been modified to begin with, and the additions wouldn’t be much of a problem – it was the base equipment that would be the most trouble. The Quartermaster was going to hate him even more than he already did! Tony gave himself a shake. What was he thinking? He wasn’t coming back here; this wasn’t his office anymore. This was a convenient room – one he had worked in for months, yes, and one with history – but it was a pit stop now, and nothing more.

“That little guy’s a handful,” The Winter Soldier said, whistling. “Remind me never to piss him off again,”

“He wasn’t like that before,” Tony said, softly.

“ _Right_ ,” The Winter Soldier snorted. “I’m sure he was a real _sweetheart_ ,”

“He was _fine_ when I saw him last,” Tony insisted. “I mean, he tried to choke me out earlier, but he was getting _better_.”

“ _That_ was him doing _better_?” The Winter Soldier grimaced. “I hope you know what the fuck you’re getting yourself into, pal, – because that guy seems like his cheese slid off his cracker a _long_ time ago.” He picked up a desk drawer and turned it over, marveling at the damage that had been done to it. “You’re a strange guy, Stark. Do you date homicidal maniacs all the time? Or is he just special?”

“What’s wrong? Looking for a date?” Tony asked, bristling inwardly. He batted his eyelashes and mock swooned. “I bet you say that to _all_ the men you threaten,”

The Winter Soldier chuckled. “Believe me – You’re _not_ my type, Stark,”

“Sure,” Tony said.

“Being _easy_ does not make you everyone’s type,” The Winter soldier scoffed.

“I’m not _easy_!” Tony grumbled, standing up straight. “Where the hell did you hear that? The gossip magazines? Don’t tell me you’re trolling the internet for _rumors_. Jesus – what the fuck is wrong with you Hydra assholes?”

“I read your file before they send me out on this mission, Stark,” The Winter Soldier said, tossing the desk drawer away. “They warned me about you. They said you’re a flirt, that you screw around and fake being pathetic and useless so people don’t you seriously. So far, the files are looking pretty accurate, Stark,”

Tony couldn’t help the obnoxious snort he let out. “Oh dear _god_ – you actually believe what they tell you. That’s _adorable_ ,”

The Winter Soldier’s eyes narrowed. “You’re telling me you _weren’t_ just batting your eyelashes at me?”

“Oh I _flirt_ ,” Tony said, flapping a hand in the Winter Soldier’s direction, “but I haven’t screwed around in a long time. I haven’t had the _time_.” He shook his head, smiling grimly. “I mean, yeah, I’ve had a few flings, but I don’t sleep aroundwithpeople at SI. Those people belongs to _Howard_.” He shuddered. “I don’t _touch_ Howard’s things,”

“You don’t touch his things, but you take his money,” The Winter Soldier said. He stepped closer until he was chest to chest with Tony; he went up on his toes a little, trying to be taller than Tony again. “You’re sweet-as-pie, _darling_. You’re fucking liar,”

“I take his money because I _have_ to, not because I like it,” Tony snapped. He jabbed the Winter Soldier in the chest with a gauntleted finger. “You take money for killing people – don’t fucking _judge_ me,”

“I don’t get paid,” The Winter Soldier said.

Tony frowned. “What?”

“I don’t get paid,” The Winter Soldier repeated. Confusion clouded his expression. “I’m an asset – I don’t get paid,” he said. “I don’t need money – Hydra provides everything I need.”

“So you murder people for _free_?” Tony said, incredulously. He held his hands up. “Holy fuck – why am I even _talking_ to you?”

A piercing wail tore through the room; the sound ripped from the walls, as though using them as speakers. Tony and the Winter Soldier clapped their hands over their ears as the wail grew louder and louder, staggered by the power of it.

Tony squirmed in the suit, his eyes watering in pain. He peered up when the suit caught movement on its sensors. The ceiling above them was _bubbling_ as thought it was made of water; it had to be Steve’s doing, because there was nothing in Tony’s arsenal that could do something like _that_ , at least not yet. The melting concrete and metal dripped down in thick rivulets around them; the liquid let out a hiss as it hit the furniture and debris. It melted everything it touched, but seemed to go inert once it lay pooling on the floor. The biggest of the bubbles on the remaining chunk of the ceiling vanished as a fireball of gold and orange tore through it.

Tony didn’t think; he grabbed the Winter Soldier and fired up his jet boots. They shot out through the open door, colliding with the wall with a grunt, landing inches away from Tony’s bag.

“Holy _shit_ ,” The Winter Soldier bit out. “What the fuck was _that_?”

“I’m thinking that’s what it looks like when Steve decides to play with fire,” Tony said, with a cough. A split second after the words left Tony’s mouth, the sprinklers kicked in. Alarms blared loudly, as the security system called for the building to be evacuated.

The Winter Soldier stared at Tony; his bangs hung limply in front of his eyes. “I hate this mission,” he muttered.

The fire in the ceiling calmed, tamed by the sprinklers, but didn’t go out. The metal beams that had once so proudly held up the ceiling gleamed in red and gold; they framed the gaping hole in the ceiling as though trying to be a work of art instead of a mark of utter destruction.

“Well,” Tony said, gesturing to the ceiling, “You said you wanted to get up to the next floor. Voila!”

“I didn’t want to have to crawl through a _burning hole_ ,” The Winter Soldier grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not _burning_ ,” Tony said. He winced when a blob of molten hot sludge dripped down onto the floor. “It’s just a little… _melty_ ,”

“Why am I walking around with you again?” The Winter Soldier sighed. He wiped water off of his face and glared up at the ceiling.

The metal conference table Howard had so prized himself on having slid crookedly through the hole and hit the floor; it landed and remained standing on end. A chair tumbled down through the hole and hit the wall with an angry squeal.

“Well, _that_ doesn’t look safe,” Tony said.

“You’re in a _war zone_ , Stark. This place wasn’t safe to begin with,” The Winter Soldier snorted. “You bastards were breeding monsters here, and you’re afraid of a hole in the ceiling?”

“Monsters - right,” Tony said. He wondered what else was in the mysterious file Hydra had handed the Winter Soldier. Maybe there was a reason to stick with the jerk after all. “Well, I’m going to head on out,” he said, hoping the Winter Soldier would take the bait. He picked up his bag, snatched up his tool kit and started heading into his workshop.

The Winter Soldier grabbed Tony’s arm.

With the suit on, it would have been easy to knock the Winter Soldier’s metal arm away, but instead Tony kept still; it was better to let the Winter Soldier think he wasn’t _willing_ to fight back. He wanted to keep a few cards up his sleeves – even if Hydra had told the guy half of his playbook. It burned his ass that someone had studied him enough to learn that much; he had been so good at keeping to himself – so who could the spy have been? He only really talked to a handful of people, and he knew that Bruce, Rhodey and Pepper wouldn’t sell him out, but there were plenty of people on staff who knew his habits too, even if they didn’t know him well. There was no point in dwelling on it, he thought bitterly. Whoever it was, they were long gone.

“You’re not going anywhere without me,” the Winter Soldier said.

“Oh?” Tony scowled at the Winter Soldier. He feigned irritation, hiding away his relief. He might have the suit to protect him now, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still want an escort – even if it was a Hydra one. If there were more people like Steve locked away, he was going to need all the help he could get. The suit was good, but it wasn’t _that_ good.

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” the Winter Soldier said. “We made a deal, remember? You help me get up there and I’ll help you get your damn boyfriend out of here,”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Tony said, flatly.

“Whatever you say, Stark,” The Winter Soldier said. “Let’s get moving.” He looked back at the table and the mess of melted metal and concrete strewn about in the remains of Tony’s workshop. He took the bag and tool kit from Tony’s hands, wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulder and stepped on top of Tony’s jetboots as though it was something he did every damn day. “Go ahead. Fly us up there before the rest of the room falls through and blocks the hole,” he said.

Tony closed the faceplate and wrapped his arm a little tighter around the Winter Soldier’s waist. Dropping the son-of-a-bitch would have made him very happy, but he still needed the guy. They shot up into the air, zipping through the ragged hole. Moments later, chairs rained down on the room below as the upper floor collapsed.

 

 

Tony had to shoot out the conference room door. It, like everything else up here on Howard’s personal floor, was locked up tighter than a miser’s wallet. The security system protested at first, clearly not appreciating the fact that the door now had a massive hole in the middle of it, but after a quick application of keycard to sensor, it quieted down and accepted that things might not have been as awful as it had first suspected.

Tony sighed and tucked the keycard back down the neck of the suit; he kept the faceplate up in case he needed quick access to it again. He had barely managed to get the keycard out of his jacket pocket without taking the suit off the first time and he had no intention of walking around without the suit wrapped around him ever again, even if it was only for a second or two. He could have put the keycard in his bag, but he had a feeling it might be dangerous leaving it where _anyone_ could get their hands on it. He might be working with the Winter Soldier, but that didn’t mean he trusted the guy to keep his mitts off of his things.

Tony pulled his bag over his shoulder and looked around, surveying the hallway. It wasn’t very different from any other hallway Tony had encountered in his journeys around SI, aside from the decorations of course. There were fancier potted plants lining the walls here, and a few expensive paintings; nothing else in the building looked quite so pointlessly expensive. Tony was pretty sure that one or two of the paintings were originals, and that was a damn shame because they were likely going to get shot up or torched when Hydra found the hole in his workshop’s ceiling. Pepper would be so sad to see them in such bad shape; she always had loved art.

The Winter Soldier looked around, glancing down the hallway as though he suspected Howard was going to leap out from behind a closed door and shout surprise.

“He’s not here,” Tony said, eyeing the door to Howard’s private lab. The lights were off inside, and what little he could see of the room was empty. He had only ever been into Howard’s workshop once, and that had been when he was much younger and impressionable. It had seemed shiny and immaculate back then, like something out of a dream; he had wanted to be a part of that world so badly, he had tried hiding in one of the cabinets so Howard couldn’t make him go home. Howard had found him, of course. Howard had _always_ been able to find him. It was only years later that Tony had figured out that Howard had implanted trackers in his arm; he had picked them out with a pair of tweezers stolen from the nurses’ room in his boarding school, glaring at the tiny little circles of metal, hating them beyond measure. It had hurt like hell, but it had been worth it to get to see the look of total rage on Howard’s face when he had come to visit a day later. Ever since then, he had started routinely scanning himself to be sure the trackers hadn’t returned. They had only returned twice, but to this day, Tony still felt itchy all over at the mere mention of Howard’s lab.

“I thought this place would have more rooms,” The Winter Soldier said. He nodded to Howard’s lab. “That can’t be the only place here that handles human testing.”

“Agreed,” Tony muttered lowly. He had been to the animal labs, where poor, unfortunate, dogs, monkeys, cats, rats and pigs had been used to test every manner of chemical SI had come up with, but he hadn’t seen a single human subject _during_ testing; he had seen a few test subjects in the cafeteria, but that was pretty much the only time he actually saw anyone who even remotely looked like they were involved in the process.

The rooms here felt wrong. Some of them _looked_ like they were recovery rooms and while that did show that human testing was being going on, it also made it clear that only one or two patients were expected to be up here at a time. If SI had been doing human trials – for perhaps vaccines or knockout gas, or whatever the hell else it was they did when they weren’t trying to make Super Soldiers – a lot more than three subjects would be needed at a time. Where _was_ everyone for that matter? Were they living somewhere else on site or were they living somewhere in the building? He hadn’t seen anyone in a hospital gown or scrubs on their way up, but it was possible that they had already been whisked away by Hydra.

Still, the place felt wrong. Why wasn’t anyone up here if this was where all the action was? Where were all the other lab workers? And why had Howard gone through the trouble locking the place up if there was no one here? It wasn’t like there were secret papers or inventions lying around. Nothing here looked particularly advanced or top secret. It looked almost _too_ normal.

Tony approached the first examination room he came to and peered inside, scoping out the equipment; the sight of it left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Most of what he saw looked like it was fresh out of the box. Either they had just gotten in a fresh shipment, or nothing much happened here.

Tony continued searching. He peered through a window into Howard’s lab; the suit’s sensors were as unhelpful as his eyes. Something was shielding the room. He could make out a white lab coat hanging off of one of the rolling chairs, but there was no sign of Howard. Unless the bastard was curled up under his desk, hiding like a chastised puppy, it was unlikely they would find him here.

“Is there a reason why you’re not just, oh, I don’t know – unlocking the door and letting us in?” The Winter Soldier asked, irritably. He looked ready to start kicking in doors.

“I can’t,” Tony said, scowling at the window.

“You _have_ a keycard,” The Winter Soldier grunted. “I don’t see how the locks are a problem,”

“You don’t get it. This isn’t just _any_ old room – this isn’t an office, or a store room or security HQ – this is Howard’s _private_ floor,” Tony said through gritted teeth. “Howard Stark doesn’t let anyone into his world unless they’ve been personally invited. He probably gives his own assistants the stink eye before he lets them out of the elevator in the morning. _They_ probably don’t have keycards,”

“I’m guessing that means that there isn’t going to be a spare key just lying around,” The Winter Soldier sighed. “Great.”

“You know,” Tony mused, “I thought you were going to be scarier,”

“What?” The Winter Soldier frowned.

“Well, you’re not exactly _terrifying_ ,” Tony said, turning his attention to the door.

“What are you talking about?” The Winter Soldier growled. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m _scary_. People run away from me all the time.” He rubbed at the back of his head and sighed, giving his head a rough shake. “Look – I’ve got a massive headache. Can you _not_ be a pain in the ass for a couple of minutes?”

“I can try,” Tony snorted. “But I highly doubt it.” He looked carefully for a seam in the wall where it met the doorframe, trying to find a spot he could pry apart, but he was shit out of luck. The walls were smooth and had been built as one piece, probably to stop people from doing what he was trying to do. He grimaced. If he took a chance and tried to blast this door down with his repulsors, it was likely security system would engage and that was something he didn’t want to have to fend off. Security up here didn’t mean a bulky man with a flashlight and a stun gun; oh no. It meant gas being piped into the room and possibly electrocution and or being shot in the ass with a dart full of sedatives. Gas wasn’t so bad, and he could _probably_ survive the rest of the attacks with the suit on, but there was no way in hell the Winter Soldier was going to just walk away while he went on ahead.

He had told Pepper and Rhodey that he could take over the security system, but that wasn’t quite true; it was possible, but it required an incredible amount of memory, and the suit couldn’t run itself and the hacking program at the same time – not unless he wanted to drain the battery down in a matter of minutes. It was something he had been planning on fixing in the next OS update; he wished he had gotten to it sooner.

Tony huffed a sigh and rested his forehead against the glass door. This was going to be a pain in the _ass_.

Steve peered at Tony through the glass door, his cheek pressed up against it; his eyes were wide and frightened, framed by his limp, tangled, blond hair.

Tony stared blankly at Steve, not quite sure what he was seeing. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? Steve had disappeared a half hour ago now, and Tony hadn’t thought they would see him again so soon, yet here he was. Was Steve growing stronger the closer they got to him? Was that it? Tony tensed, preparing to grab the Winter Soldier and run and then realized that Steve was looking at him in a way that didn’t imply displeasure; Steve actually looked pleasantly _surprised to see him_.

The Winter Soldier joined Tony and glared through the glass at Steve. “What’s he doing in there?” he grunted.

Steve frowned at the Winter Soldier and then turned, locking eyes with Tony again, looking confused. This wasn’t the same Steve they had run into in Tony’s workshop; this was the softer, kinder Steve – the one who had cried and sat with Tony in the hall while he worked. The shield pillow was clutched in one of his hands, and he didn’t look like he had touched so much as a drop of blood.

“Steve?” Tony called out. He wasn’t sure whether Steve could hear him or not, but he was betting Steve could read his lips.

Steve reached out and pressed his finger to the glass and wrote on it with careful, even, strokes. He flashed Tony a brilliant smile when he finished, and rested his palms on the window frame. He breathed onto the glass.

Tony smiled, understanding what Steve had written almost immediately.

_Are you ok?_

“I’m ok,” he said. He pointed to the Winter Soldier. “He’s with me.”

Steve looked skeptically at the Winter Soldier. He mouthed a word.

_Really?_

“I know,” Tony said with a smile. “He doesn’t look like much, but he’s my bodyguard.”

Steve pursed his lips and gave the Winter Soldier a thorough looking-over. When he was finished, he wrote a new message on the window and then put his hand on his hips.

_He looks like a bully. I don’t like bullies._

“I know,” Tony said, calmly, “But he’s learning how to behave himself, I promise. Can you open the door, honey? We really need to get in there,”

Steve stared sternly at the door and then nodded slowly. His profile was blurred by the glass. The lock click echoed in the empty hallway.

Tony pulled the door open, expecting to find Steve standing there waiting for them.

Steve was nowhere to be seen.

Tony let out an exasperated groan.

“I’m starting to think he _likes_ disappearing on us,” the Winter Soldier said, wryly. He wiped absently at his nose and swallowed audibly. There was blood smeared across the fingertips of his leather gloves; his eyes went unfocused. “What the hell?” he choked out. He dropped like a rock before Tony could ask what had happened.

Tony caught the Winter Soldier before he hit the ground. The suit helped him carry the slumped man over to one of Howard’s examination tables; without it, Tony wasn’t so sure he could have managed the task. The Winter Soldier was all muscle, and while Tony was strong, he wasn’t at the top of his game by a long shot. He hadn’t lifted anything much heavier than his laptop in a long time. Mindful of the Winter Soldier’s head, Tony set him down and leaned over him, checking his pupils to see if he was concussed. He was startled to find that the Winter Soldier’s eyes looked fine.

“I’m not concussed,” The Winter Soldier groaned, batting away Tony’s hand. “It’s just a headache.”

“Did you get hit with anything earlier?” Tony asked, trying to get a good look at the Winter Soldier’s head. He couldn’t see any bumps or bruises, and Jarvis’ scans weren’t picking anything up either, but he could see marks where _something_ had dug into the side of the Winter Soldier’s neck. It looked a little bit like the mark an injector gun made when used repeatedly; he had seen that same mark on test subjects before. “What’s this?” He reached out and prodded the patch of bruised skin. “I’m not a doctor or anything, but I don’t think people are supposed to have bruises like that,”

The Winter Soldier reached up and touched his neck as Tony pulled his hand away. “I don’t know. I don’t remember,”

“You don’t remember getting stabbed in the neck?” Tony asked. “That’s a funny thing to not remember,”

“I don’t _remember_ , alright? I woke up – it was cold and dark as always. Then they turned the lights on and they handed me a file,” the Winter Soldier snapped. He squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands over them. “What time is it?”

“What?” Tony asked.

“You’re supposed to be a _genius_ – even you should be able to tell the goddamned time,” the Winter Soldier moaned.

Tony consulted the suit’s HUD. “It’s a little after three a.m.,” he said, slowly. “Is that a problem?”

“I’ve been here for five hours,” the Winter Soldier murmured in wonder. When he opened his eyes, he looked frightened. He tried to sit up and nearly slid off the exam table. “I can’t be here – I need to go.”

“Go? Go _where_?” Tony asked, flabbergasted. “You’re supposed to be completing your mission, aren’t you?”

“I can’t _be_ out here without checking in with my handler – I can’t – five hours is the limit. I need to go back to base – I need to check in,” the Winter Soldier rambled. He tried to get up again. This time, Tony held him down.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Tony said, calmly.

“Don’t test me,” The Winter Soldier snapped. He shoved Tony’s hands away, and tried to sit up again, but the suit was more powerful than he was.

Tony shoved the Winter Soldier down again. “Stay _down_ ,”

“No!” the Winter Soldier shouted. “I have to go – I can’t be here. They need to put me out again. I need to go _back_ ,”

“Stop struggling before your hurt yourself,” Tony growled. He gripped the Winter Soldier’s shoulders a little tighter, refusing to be pushed away. “You’re fine – you’re ok. Nothing’s wrong. You didn’t check in, but no one is going to do anything about it, I promise,”

“You don’t _know_ them,” The Winter Soldier said, hoarsely. “I have to go back,”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Tony snapped, holding on tight. The Winter Soldier struggled for a moment longer and then fell back against the examination table; he started shivering uncontrollably. His eyes were wild.

“I need to go back,” the Winter Soldier hissed. He pushed himself up again and then sank back down when Tony pushed at him.

“You promised you’d help me find Steve, remember?” Tony insisted.

“But I have to go _back_ ,” the Winter Soldier said. He stared at Tony, wild-eyed, and then let out a huffed laugh. “I’ve never been away from my handlers this long before,”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“They told me to come back early this time,” the Winter soldier admitted. He let himself be pushed down onto the examination table again and put a hand over his eyes, as though the light from the Arc Reactor was too bright. “I don’t understand. Why am I here?”

Tony frowned. Was the Winter Soldier losing his mind? Or had he _always_ been a little crazy? Rhodey hadn’t said the guy was off his rocker, but then again, SHIELD hadn’t known much about the Winter Soldier other than what he looked like; it was possible that Hydra had the guy heavily medicated for some reason.

“What do you mean? You don’t know why you’re here? You said you were here on a mission for Hydra,” Tony said slowly.

“But _why_?” The Winter Soldier whimpered. “I don’t even – I don’t remember when I started working for them. I just know that I do.” He clenched his hands over his eyes. “Who am I?”

Tony’s mouth went dry. How could someone not know who they were?

“Is that a rhetorical question, or do you seriously not know your own name?” Tony said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The Winter Soldier let out a shrill laugh that bordered on hysterical.

“Ok,” Tony said. “I’m going to take that to mean you _really_ don’t know what your name is.”

“Sir?” Jarvis’s voice bubbled up from the suit.

“Yes?” Tony said, tersely. He left a hand on the Winter Soldier’s shoulder to make sure he wouldn’t get up again. “What is it?”

“I have managed to establish contact with Mr. Rhodes and Ms. Potts,” Jarvis said.

“Oh thank god,” Tony said. He sagged in relief inside the suit. “Put them through,”

Pepper’s voice was tinged with pain; the comm couldn’t mask it entirely. “Tony?”

“Pep,” Tony said. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine – I’m banged up, but that’s kind of what happens when you get a little too close to a grenade when it explodes,”

“Ouch,” Tony said, wincing. “That does not sound fun,”

“It wasn’t,” Pepper grunted.

“How’s Rhodey?” Tony asked. “You’re there, right?”

“I’m just peachy,” Rhodey said “Unlike Pepper, I know when to dodge,”

“Oh please,” Pepper snorted. “You were the one who almost stepped on the damn thing in the first place. If I hadn’t kicked it down the hall, we’d both be dead right now.”

“Well at lest you guys have been keeping busy,” Tony said. It was good to know that they were safe, but he wasn’t so happy hearing that they had almost died.

“How are you doing? Did you get to your workshop?” Pepper asked.

“Yeah I made it,” Tony said. “My new _bestie_ helped me out.”

“Bestie? Who the fuck is that?” Rhodey growled.

“I got caught by the Winter Soldier,” Tony said.

The comm line went silent.

Pepper’s voice was shrill when she spoke. “Are you _serious_?”

“ _Perfectly_ ,” Tony said. He leaned closer to the Winter Soldier’s head and gently peeled the man’s hand back so he could get a look at his eyes again; he let the suit take a full scan. The Winter Soldier’s breathing was uneven and he was trembling all over, like he had been submerged in ice water. Tony didn’t know much about panic attacks or drug withdrawal, but he could tell when someone was suffering. In hindsight, it had probably been a stupid move to restrain the guy in the first place, but he hadn’t exactly known if it was panic or an actual injury that had caused the sudden change in behavior. He squeezed the Winter Soldier’s shoulder, hoping that it came off as reassuring instead of threatening. “How you doing, buddy?” he asked.

The Winter Soldier took in a sharp breath through his nose. “I need to… I need to close my eyes for a while,” he said. “The room is spinning.”

“Ok,” Tony said. He glanced around to make sure they were still safe and rested his hip against the edge of the examination table. “So,” Tony said, turning the conversation back to Pepper and Rhodey. “Are you two coming up here, or what?”

“We’re heading up alright,” Pepper muttered.

“We just got an interesting phone call from your father,” Rhodey said. He sounded like he had had to handle a filthy toilet brush with his teeth. Tony couldn’t blame him. Howard was a pain in the ass when he was in a _good_ mood; he was damn near intolerable when he was angry.

“What did dear old dad tell you?” Tony asked. He wasn’t so sure he could trust that the Winter Soldier wasn’t going to jump up and run off if he heard what Howard had had to say, but he didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone to continue the conversation somewhere a little private. Besides, Steve had been here before, and if he showed up again, there would be nothing stopping him from tearing the Winter Soldier apart.

“He’s pretty insistent that we get you out of the building,” Pepper said, through the comm. “He claims he’s in his lab trying to figure out a way to stabilize his latest project and he needs everyone to back the fuck off.”

“Yeah,” Tony snorted. “Well, I’m pretty sure he’s full of shit, because we’re standing in his lab right now and he isn’t here,”

Rhodey sighed. “That’s what we thought. The frequency kept cutting out every time he started yelling – which was every other sentence –, and I’m pretty sure the entire building’s wired for clear signal. I’m thinking he’s underground somewhere. Does this place have a basement?”

“Aside from the standard we-store-random-crap kind of basement, I don’t know,” Tony said. He tapped his chin. He knew that Howard had built SI to withstand any kind of environmental disaster, but he had never seen an actual blueprint for the building. Knowing Howard, there probably wasn’t one lying around that they could look up, either; the devious bastard had probably had it burned after the building was finished in order to keep everything hushed up. If there _was_ a secret basement, then that would explain why Howard had locked this floor up. It had probably been done for show – to keep people from becoming suspicious.

Wait – could that be right?

Was something _really_ happening up here during work hours or not?

Howard always headed up to his office every morning like clockwork, showing up for work at exactly six a.m. to get an early start. There was obviously _something_ here he had needed. It couldn’t have _all_ been for show, could it?

“Well, if there _is_ a basement, the door’s in fucking _Narnia_. There’s nothing marked in the elevator,” Pepper said. “We just checked the one on our floor. It’s pretty much a dead end. There aren’t any secret panels, and there’s no place to stick a keycard or code something in.”

“I hope we don’t need a retinal scan or something,” Rhodey grumbled. “If we do, we’re fucked.”

“Maybe you were in the wrong elevator,” Tony said. He took another look at Howard’s lab. There was a lot of equipment here, but there was also a lot of cabinetry and storage. “That’s funny,” he murmured, glancing at the cabinets. Howard had always made sure he had paper backups of his work just in case something went horribly wrong with the computer system, but most of _that_ wasn’t stored here at SI – that would have made espionage too easy, and Howard had always been careful with his backups. So why were there so many cabinets here? What could Howard _possibly_ be storing?

Tony patted the Winter Soldier on the shoulder to let him know that he was still there and approached the largest cabinet with trepidation. He ran his hand over the door handle and pulled at it experimentally. It was locked, but with the suit’s superior strength, that meant little to nothing. He wrenched the door off its hinges and peered into the shelves inside. There were trinkets scattered about here, some of it recognizable – most of it strange and unexpected.

Tony picked up an elderly-looking leather bound sketchbook and flipped through it, trying to figure out why Howard had felt the need to lock it up. The pictures were lovingly rendered, the details astoundingly accurate and neat; the subjects ranged from buildings to people and animals and all of it had been done in graphite. Tony frowned. This wasn’t Howard’s work – that was for sure. Howard had never drawn on anything other than blueprint paper, and he always worked in pen, never pencil.

“That looks familiar,” The Winter Soldier murmured.

Tony turned his head and glanced over at the Winter Soldier. The man was sitting up again and his colour looked a lot less like he had been rolling around in white paint. He had a determined look in his eye now; the dead, lifeless look was gone.

The Winter Soldier gestured for Tony to move closer, so he did.

The Winter Soldier tapped the picture on the first page as Tony held the sketchbook out in front of them. He was still trembling, but the shakes had died down a little. “I know that woman,” he said, frowning down at the page.

“Is she Hydra?” Tony asked.

“I have no idea,” The Winter Soldier grimaced. “I recognize her face, but I don’t remember her name. I think she was friends with your boyfriend,”

“Wait – you _knew_ _Steve_?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know,” the Winter Soldier lamented, rubbing at his forehead. “I _think_ I knew him. He seems so _familiar_ ,”

Tony glanced down at the sketch of the unknown woman. Now that the Winter Soldier had mentioned it, she _did_ look familiar. She must have been someone Howard had brought home when he was a child – someone who his mother had gotten along with. He was pretty sure he could remember her smiling at him and giving him a handshake that had been firmer than his father’s. She had been in the army – a soldier of some kind, although he couldn’t remember much more about her than that.

Tony furrowed his brow, staring intently at the drawing. He could just make out two words scribbled along the soft curve of her hair. Could that be it? Was that the mystery woman’s name? “Does the name Peggy Carter mean anything to you?” he asked the Winter Soldier.

The Winter Soldier stared blankly at Tony. “No,” he said. “Is that her name?”

“Probably – unless our artist’s name was Peggy,” Tony said. He looked at the image, trying to sus out where the artist’s signature was hidden, but he couldn’t find even a stray letter. The person who had done the drawings hadn’t bothered signing them.

“Tony?” Rhodey’s voice whined through the suit’s comm.

“Hello, caller. I’m listening,” Tony said, flipping to a new page. It wasn’t a completely lost cause, yet. There might not be a signature on the first drawing, but there might be one on one of the others. Some artists were picky about their work – they didn’t sign anything they thought looked like crap.

“Repeat that – Did you just say _Peggy Carter_?” Rhodey asked.

“That I did,” Tony said. “We found a sketchbook up here. Her name’s written on one of the pictures,”

“Tony,” Pepper said through the comm, “Peggy Carter is one of the founding members of SHIELD,”

Tony’s eyes widened. “No _shit_!” he laughed. So that was why he had met her! She and Howard had worked together.

“There are pictures of her with Erskine on the walls in the reception office,” Rhodey said. “She’s the one who introduced Erskine to Howard, from what I heard,”

Tony shook his head sadly. Howard had never really said anything about his work to his family; he doubted if even his mother had known the true names and professions of the men and women Howard had invited into their home. “So is this her sketchbook then?” Tony murmured, skimming the next few pages. He could make out names under a lot of the other portraits and figures, but they were all different. They had to be the subjects’ name, not the artists.

“Stark,” the Winter Soldier said, nervously.

Tony tensed and looked up from the sketchbook. “What?”

Steve was standing beside the examination table, staring longingly at the sketchbook. He flushed pink when he realized that Tony had spotted him. He stood there defiantly, as though he expected someone to say something about him being there – as though he expected them to tell him to get out.

“Is this yours?” Tony asked, holding the sketchbook up.

Steve nodded and vanished.

Tony sighed. “I really wish he’d stop doing that,”

“You and me both,” The Winter Soldier muttered.

Tony flipped to the last page of the sketchbook, ready to put it back; he nearly dropped it. There, composed in loving detail was the Winter Soldier, only it wasn’t _him_ – not the way he was now. This was a younger man, one with shorter hair and a smile that looked like it could light up a room. Unlike the other pictures, this one had been done in coloured pencils; not an inch of space had been wasted, and the shades had been matched expertly to make the man’s smile warm and full of life. Tony traced along the line of the bicep in the picture and found exactly what he was looking for.

The Winter Soldier stared at the picture, seemingly stunned.

“You’re Bucky Barnes,” Tony mumbled. He looked from the picture to the man sitting in front of him. A lot had changed since the drawing had been done, but Bucky was still there somewhere within the Winter Soldier’s face.

The Winter Soldier’s eyes narrowed; he looked from the picture to Tony. “Is that why I’m here?” he asked, his voice going strangely flat.

“You were his friend,” Tony said. He had known that the Winter Soldier was strong, but he hadn’t suspected that it was because he was a _Super Soldier_. “You guys were close, from what I read. You were both here at SI when they were doing trials for Project: Rebirth. Howard and Erskine were hoping to develop a Super Soldier Serum, but the closest they ever came to it was you and Steve. It never did what they wanted, but it worked,”

“So why am I working for Hydra?” The Winter Soldier – no, Bucky, asked. He took the sketchbook from Tony and held it cradled in his hands as though it was made of tissue paper, his gaze locked on the image of the man he had once been.

“They lost you,” Tony said, simply.

“They _lost_ me?” Bucky said. His gaze turned hard. “What do you mean they _lost_ me? I’m not a fucking _cat_ – you can’t just _lose_ a person!”

“I don’t know the specifics,” Tony said, holding his hands up in front of him, “but from what I read in the file my friend Bruce cobbled together, Howard sent you off on some kind of secret mission and you never came back. They assumed you were dead.”

“So they stopped looking,” Bucky whispered, numbly. “They left me out there to _rot_.”

“They looked for you,” Tony said, dropping his hands. “I know they did. You were an asset, just like you said. You were worth looking for,”

“As an _asset_ ,” Bucky sneered. “They only wanted me because they wanted their precious _serum_ ,”

Tony looked down at his feet. He knew what it was like to feel worthless; Howard had never been one to mince his words, and he had always made it very clear that Tony was a creation – a toy for him to mold, and nothing more.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said.

“Why?” Bucky said, still looking down at the picture. “It’s not like _you’re_ the one who lost me,”

“They should have kept looking,” Tony said.

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled, darkly. “Well, it’s too late for that now, isn’t it? I’m back and they’re going to wish I was dead,”

Tony swallowed hard. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

“We’re breaking Steve out, aren’t we?” Bucky said, closing the sketchbook. “I thought you said that’s what you were planning to do,”

“It is,” Tony said, nodding vigorously. “I want to get him the fuck out of here,”

“Then we’d better get moving,” Bucky said. He hesitated and set the sketchbook down.

“You can take it, you know,” Tony said with a gentle smile. He gestured to his backpack; it was singed and more than a little beat up, but it was still holding out. “We may as well. There might not be any way to find it again if we don’t take it now.”

Bucky frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I may have forgotten to mention that Obadiah Stane is probably going to launch a nuke at the building,” Tony said, looking sheepish.

Bucky stood up so quickly, he nearly toppled over. “What?” he yelped, “What the _fuck_ are you talking about?”

“Look, you can’t exactly blame me for not sharing _everything_!” Tony grumbled, taking a step backwards. Bucky seized him by the shoulders and gave him a violent shake, one that rocked the armor.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bucky roared. “You can’t just _hide_ shit like that!”

“I was afraid of getting shot in the head when I told you,” Tony yelled back. He could see the suit’s sensors protesting the Winter Soldier’s grip; if the Winter Soldier kept up the pressure, he would destroy the suit one piece at a time.

Bucky’s grip loosened; he continued to glare at Tony. “How much time do we have left?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said. He tucked the sketchbook into his bag before he could forget about it. “And before you ask, I’m not lying to you or fucking around. I seriously _don’t_ know. All I know is what Howard told me in a bunch of very _nasty_ voicemails. I’ve got Jarvis – my AI – looking into it. If he hears anything, I’ll let you and everyone else know. I don’t want to get blown up any more than you do,”

“We need to move,” Bucky said. He grabbed Tony by the shoulders again. “SI isn’t the only one planning to blow this place up,”

Tony scowled. “ _Oh fuck off_ ,”

“Hydra’s going to give the order when I come back after my mission,” Bucky said, grimly.

“And your mission was, _what_ , exactly?” Tony asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m here to take out SI’s last super soldier,” Bucky said.

Tony squinted at Bucky. “You’re _kidding_ ,”

“I’m not,” Bucky said. He had the decency to look ashamed of himself. “I uh, I didn’t realize we were going after the same guy until you said his full name,”

“I’ve been calling him _Steve_ since we met!” Tony roared. “How could you _not_ know who I was talking about?”

“You didn’t tell me his full name!” Bucky snapped. “I thought you were going after a different Steve – there are three Steves on SI’s employee list! How the hell was I supposed to know you meant Steve _Rogers_!”

“Uh, guys?” Pepper’s voice seemed to boom from the Iron Man suit’s speakers.

Tony and Bucky stepped apart, scowling at one another.

“What’s up, Pep?” Tony muttered.

“I know you two would just love to fight it out for a few more minutes but I think we should really start moving again,” Pepper said. “Because there’s a new army in town, and they’ve got bigger guns than us,”

“What?” Tony rasped. “ _Another_ army?”

“You’re sure it’s not Hydra?” Bucky asked. He cracked his knuckles. “We can _handle_ Hydra. _I_ can handle Hydra.”

“Well, unless Hydra’s started calling themselves _Stane International_ since you’ve been gone, I’m pretty sure it’s not them,” Rhodey said. “Man, I am really getting sick of all of these Corporations just showing up without an invitation. Didn’t they read the _no soliciting_ sign taped to the door?”

“I guess they didn’t make the font big enough,” Pepper snorted.

“Shit,” Tony groaned. “Obie’s got his own company now? When the hell did _that_ happen?”

“Judging by the SI badges on their arms, I’m thinking it’s a _recent_ development,” Rhodey grumbled. “I’m thinking they’re not going to be friendly. What about you, Pep?”

“ _Definitely_ not friendly. I just saw one of them blow the head off of a security guard after the guy let him through a barricade. I’m pretty sure if they were friendly, they wouldn’t have done _that_ ,” Pepper said.

“Probably not,” Tony said. He strode over to the hallway and poked his head out the door. He could hear a grinding noise coming from the elevator shaft, and he didn’t like the sound of it. “What floor are you guys on?”

“We’re heading to your workshop – wow,” Rhodey said with a whistle. “I love how you decorated. Did you do the giant gaping hole in the ceiling yourself? Or did you pay someone to do that for you?”

“We did the remodel ourselves,” Tony snorted. “Steve helped,”

“Right,” Rhodey muttered. “The guy you’re trying to _rescue_ blew a hole in the ceiling. Great.”

“Can you two get up here, or do you need me to fly down?” Tony asked.

“We’ll be up in a sec,” Rhodey grunted. “Damn it, Pep. You’re heavy,”

“Speak for yourself, _butterball_ ,” Pepper grumbled. “I don’t see you hauling _your_ fat ass up here,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rhodey grumbled.

Their comms crackled; their grunts spilled through the line. He heard Rhodey curse and then heard Pepper say something a thousand times raunchier.

Tony chuckled and strode out into the hallway with Bucky at his heels. They were met by a tired looking Rhodey and Pepper. The pair looked like they had crawled their way through a bog, and while they were both scraped up and bleeding, they were smiling grimly, pleased by their success.

Pepper glowered at Bucky as they approached. “Did you _befriend_ the Winter Soldier?” she asked, her lips pursed.

“Yep,” Tony said. He patted Bucky on the back, his armored gauntlet clanking against Bucky’s metal shoulder. “Turns out, he’s Bucky Barnes,”

“You’re full of shit,” Rhodey said, letting out a sharp laugh. He turned to Pepper. “He’s full of shit, isn’t he?”

“I’m not so sure anymore,” Pepper grunted. “I mean, the guy isn’t strangling Tony with that metal hand of his, so presumably he’s on our side,”

“That doesn’t mean he’s _friendly_ ,” Rhodey retorted. “ _I’m_ not strangling Tony either, but I’m still thinking about it,”

“True,” Pepper said, frowning at Bucky. “I think that’s kind of a prerequisite for being his friend, though,”

“Probably,” Rhodey said with a sagely nod.

“Hey!” Tony said, glaring at the both of them. “You guys are _jerks_! Why do I even hang out with you?”

“Well, right now, it’s because you’re stuck with us,” Pepper said, smiling sweetly. She turned her stern gaze on Bucky, eyeing him with unease, as if he was an unexploded bomb she was trying to get rid of. “So is he with us, or do I need to shoot him?” she asked.

“I’m with you,” Bucky grunted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“ _Prove it_ ,” Rhodey growled. He straightened up, pulling himself to his full height and let his rifle slide into view.

Bucky scowled. “And how the hell am I supposed to do that, exactly? I’m not shooting at you right now – does that count?”

Pepper shrugged. “I guess it will do – _for now_ ,” she said. She walked over to the cabinet Tony had torn apart while searching for clues and poked around inside, using her flashlight to peer into the darkened corners where he hadn’t yet peeked. “So this is what the great Howard Stark keeps locked up?” She reached for a picture frame, but couldn’t lift it from the shelf. Grimacing, she flicked at it in revenge, knocking it backwards.

Something _hummed_ ominously from inside the cabinet.

Pepper took a wary step backwards and lifted her rifle, aiming it at the cabinet. “Did you hear that? Or am I going crazy?” she asked.

“Don’t worry,” Tony said, slapping Pepper consolingly on the shoulder. “You can’t go _crazy_ if you’re _already_ crazy.” He ordered Jarvis to scan the room again and laughed when he realized what had just happened. “Pep,” he said. He turned her round, his hands on her shoulders and gave her a wet, loud, kiss on the lips, “I think you just saved all of our asses,”

Pepper scowled at Tony and wiped her face on the back of her gloved hand. “Why am I the one who gets all the celebratory kisses,” she grumbled.

Rhodey smirked at her. “Why do you think? You’re the only one who won’t _break his face_ when he does it,”

“Sweetheart, don’t lie,” Pepper said leering back at Rhodey. “I’ve seen you two when you’re drunk. You’re just as much of a kissy-face as he is.”

Rhodey pulled a face. “I _am_ not,”

“You are too,” Tony agreed. “Remember that time in Reno? With the parrot? And the tequila?”

“ _Enough_ ,” Bucky snapped. “I don’t give a shit who kisses who or who did what with a parrot – we have _things_ to do!” He turned to Tony, his fists curled dangerously at his sides. “I’m assuming that cabinet’s not going to spontaneously combust considering we’re still _standing_ here. I’m right – right?”

“Calm down, Mr. Grouchy-pants,” Tony grumbled. His playful mood sobered almost instantaneously when he caught Bucky’s eye; he knew Bucky was right – now was not the time to screw around, although it had made him feel a hell-of-a-lot better. They were close to getting Steve out of here and they needed to stay focused.

Tony cleared his throat. “Technically speaking, it’s not a cabinet per-say,” he said. “It’s a hidden doorway.” He put the faceplate up, letting the suit’s sensors show him what was going on out of sight. He took the second cabinet door off its hinges, tearing it free, and tossed it aside; he turned his ministrations to the shelf where Pepper had knocked over the offending picture frame, scanning the metal itself to check for scratches and dust. The shielding that had been blocking him before was only blocking the outside of the room – not the inside. If Jarvis’s readings were right, the picture frame had been switch _one_ of _two_. This was an electronic door; the electricity flowing through the wall behind the cabinet made that pretty damned clear. A quick scan of the top shelf netted him nothing of interest, but on the lowest shelf, he struck pay dirt. There, set inconspicuously beside a stack of old, yellowing, newspapers, was a circular glass shield sitting in a silver display stand. To a stranger, it might have looked like a trophy, or just another pointless trinket someone had handed Howard after an award show – but to Tony, it meant so much more. This was the one piece of memorabilia Howard had taken with him the day he walked out on his wife and child. It had been the one thing he had made sure no one else could have – he had even paid his wife a million dollars to forget about it in the divorce settlement. It hadn’t been worth more than five hundred dollars at most, but it had meant the world to him.

The glass shield was a part of SI’s long, and spotty history. It had been the prototype for Captain America’s supposed weapon of choice; the marketing directors had come up with it and Howard had _loved_ it. He had supposedly made a shield out of his private reserve of Vibranium for use when SI _finally_ managed to get a Captain America of their very own, but Tony had never seen _that_ shield – the glass one, he had seen plenty, the Vibranium one had remained hidden. It could have been a rumor – after all, Bruce’s file had made no mention of the shield’s existence – but just seeing the glass shield locked away, _protected_ , made Tony absolutely sure that it was important. Hell, they might stumble upon one down below.

Tony gave the glass shield’s stand a gentle nudge; something clicked inside the cabinet, and he was forced to step out of the way to avoid getting squashed. The shelves slowly slid upwards, vanishing into the ceiling with a soft whoosh as the cabinet’s outer frame widened and rearranged to reveal a hole in the back wall. There, nestled within, lay an elevator. It wasn’t big enough for more than one person to use at time, but it was functional, even with the power off. Tony flipped open his faceplate; the elevator was bathed in the Arc Reactor’s blue light. There, sitting in plain sight on the elevator’s back wall was a single, square, luminescent green button and a keycard slot.

“When that guy wants to hide something, he hides it well, I’ll give him that much,” Rhodey muttered.

“I guess that means we’re going down,” Pepper mused.

“Yeah. That’s easier said than done. We need a keycard,” Tony said, glaring at the panel. He wasn’t going to let this stop him – not now.

“And the one you have doesn’t work?” Rhodey asked.

“It didn’t last time,” Bucky muttered.

“Well, let’s see,” Tony sighed. “It’s worth a shot.” He stepped into the elevator and delicately slipped the keycard into the slot. The elevator lights flashed red as the card was soundly rejected.

“I’m guessing that was a _no_ ,” Bucky said with a grimace.

Tony pulled the keycard out and slipped it back into the neck of his suit. “Well, what do we do now? It’s not like Howard’s going to just leave a keycard lying around,” he said.

“Do you think his secretary would have had a card?” Pepper asked.

“I don’t think so, but hey, maybe we’ll get lucky,” Tony said. “Let’s start looking,”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you spot anything funky, let me know and I'll fix it! Drop me a line on my tumblr if you have any questions too!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard had been hiding a lot more than just a secret elevator...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for abusive language/physical violence/gore/blood.

They searched the rooms together to save time. 

As Tony expected, Pepper was rather  _ unhappy _ to see the paintings adorning the hallways. She pulled out a hunting knife, muttering under her breath about Howard and why good art always ended up with bad people, and delicately cut the pictures from their frames, rolling them up.

“Did you see any cardboard tubes lying around anywhere?” Pepper asked, poking her head into the room Tony and the others had moved into while she was saving the artwork from an untimely demise.

“You’re in luck,” Tony said. “Knock yourself out. We’ve got plenty to spare. Feel free to step and spit on anything you don’t like.” 

The room Tony had picked was called The Prep Room, a place where presentations and reports were stored and edited by Howard before they were released to the Board. Tony gestured to a stack of cardboard tubes piled up in the corner of the room, glad that he had  _ finally _ found something of use. Inside the cardboard tubes were laminated posters, ones that were waiting for a board meeting that would now never come. Tony had done the laminating himself, even though it hadn’t actually been his job; he had owed Bill, the actual project leader, a favor for getting him parts for the Arc Reactor and the guy had been strapped for time so he had tasked Tony with Poster Duty. Tony had sent the tubes up the day before to get them preapproved for the meeting, but Howard had never mentioned getting them; he was kind of surprised to see that they had made it up here after all. 

Pepper’s gleeful squeal made Bucky jump a good foot into the air. She dove for the cardboard tubes and picked up the biggest one she could find, knocking the others over in her haste; she pulled the plastic stopper off the end of the tube and dumped the SI posters on the floor, sneering down at them, before stuffing the liberated artwork inside.

“Good for you,” Rhodey said, as he passed Pepper to go search through a new desk. “You steal that artwork. You steal it  _ good _ ,” 

Pepper flipped Rhodey the bird and smiled. “Very funny,” she said. “I’m going to enjoy giving these babies a new home.”

Bucky watched Pepper check over the cardboard tube, gnawing on his lower lip. He glanced at the cardboard and then at Pepper, his brow furrowed in confusion. He moved his search over beside Tony and leaned in until they were bumping shoulders. “Is she  _ always _ like that?” he asked, quietly.

Tony looked up. He wiped the sweat from the side of his nose before it could drip down the neck of the suit. “Who? Pepper?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “What’s she so excited about?”

“She likes art,” Tony said with a shrug. “She hates seeing it get damaged.”

“It’s  _ that _ big a deal?” Bucky asked, looking even more confused than before. “They’re just  _ pictures _ . I mean, they’re pretty and all, but it’s not like they’re made out of gold or something.”

“She was going to be an Art Curator before she decided to switch majors and got into SHIELD,” Tony chuckled. “To her, they’re not  _ just _ pictures and if you value your life, don’t  _ ever _ say anything bad about it while you’re near her, or she’ll probably rip a strip off you.”

“Oh?” Bucky frowned.

“She once organized my comic books by date, subject matter and personal preference while she was visiting. I think they’re still stacked in my room the way she left them,” Tony mused. “It made things a hell of a lot easier to find. She would have made a museum very happy.” He sighed. He was going to miss those comic books. Luckily for him, he had a spare set hidden away; they would be easily replaced if he couldn’t get to them again.

Pepper stalked over to Tony and held the cardboard tube out expectantly.

Tony glanced at the tube. “I don’t know if that’s going to fit,” he said.

“Then  _ make _ it fit,” Pepper ordered.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine. Let me work my magic.” He unzipped his bag and took the tube, looking it over, calculating the dimensions in his head; it would fit, but just barely, he decided. He guided the cardboard tube into his bag, sliding it to the bottom where it would be the least likely to cause him problems if he needed to move the bag in a hurry. 

Pepper smiled and walked away to go search a new corner of the room. 

“She’s strange for a soldier,” Bucky grumbled, lifting up a pile of paper to check underneath it.

“Don’t tell her that,” Tony advised. “She’ll shoot your ass. She’s good with art, but she’s even better with a gun.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Steve would like her,” he said. His expression turned blank. He drummed his fingers on the table. “This is weird,” he said. “I don’t know why, but I just  _ know _ he would like her. I hate this, but at the same time, it feels right knowing that I’m not losing my mind.” He found a keycard and held it up. “Here’s another one for the pile,” he said.

Tony nodded and lifted up a keycard of his own. “There’s no shortage of them. Hopefully one of these will work.”

 

 

By the time they finished tearing apart the final room, they had gathered eleven keycards in varying shades of green, blue, grey, and red. They retreated to Howard’s workshop, all too aware that dawdling could cost them their lives and Steve’s.

The first keycard was a bust. Pepper threw it over the side of the examination table with a frustrated growl and moved on, checking the next card with a vicious stab; by the time she had reached card number six, Tony was starting to worry that the security system might lock them out for having too many failed tries. He picked up the bland grey keycard and slipped it into the card reader, not expecting much. 

The elevator lit up green and then returned to a dim white light.

Tony grinned. “I think we have a winner, boys and girl. Who bet on grey?”

Bucky smirked. “You all owe me five bucks,”

“Sure,” Rhodey snorted. “We’ll pay up if we survive,”

“You’d better,” Bucky said. “I’m broke.”

“So who’s first, boss?” Rhodey said, glancing over at Pepper.

“I’ll do it. I owe you one from last time, and there’s no way we’re sending Tony down there in front of the rest of us. His corpse would block the way,” Pepper chuckled. She tugged at Tony’s arm and moved him out of the elevator, taking his place. “Alright – I’ll send the elevator back up if it’s all clear. If it doesn’t come back up, you don’t come down, clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tony said, giving Pepper a crisp salute. “Good luck!”

Pepper saluted them back and hit the call button. The elevator doors closed with a click and she vanished.

Ten tense minutes later, the elevator returned to their floor with the keycard waiting for them on the floor. Tony picked it up, saluted Rhodey and stepped inside.

“Hey!” Rhodey grumbled. “Who said _you_ get to go down next?”

“I did,” Tony said, with a wink. He hit the call button and sent the elevator down.

 

 

Tony plodded along behind Pepper, stepping where she stepped even though he was in the suit and impervious to harm. It was well lit on this floor; this was where all the backup generators were devoting all of their attention. The hallways were almost _too_ bright now that he had spent so much time in the dark. He hadn’t thought that would be possible – that light would become painful.

The security systems down here were still functional, likely operating out of a secondary operation room; it wasn’t reacting to their presence. That was worrisome, but at least they didn’t have to fight their way through the workroom checkpoints – and there were a hell-of-a-lot of those. They had passed through three already, and they have barely gone twenty feet.

The floors were made of smooth, polished, cement; everything was cold and sterile looking – well, the patches that weren’t smeared with blood and some kind of unknown liquid were, at least. They moved slowly, huddled together, avoiding puddles like they were landmines. There was no telling what was in the fluids they gingerly stepped around, not now that they were in the part of SI where Human Testing was really, truly, done. Tony hoped that the labs that housed deadly mixtures were still quarantined; the last thing they needed now was to carry something contagious out of the building.

Bucky kept pace a few feet behind Tony with Rhodey trailing along behind them. Rhodey had his rifle aimed in front of him; Bucky was wielding a knife in his cybernetic hand. They hadn’t had to use force yet, but it was only a matter to time before something happened.

It was too quiet down here; something had clearly gone wrong. There should have been technicians running around in a panic, maybe a research assistant trying to gather files or a janitor hurrying to repair damage – instead, there was silence.

They saw bodies in almost every room they passed; the smell of blood was so strong, Tony was tempted to put his faceplate up to block it out. Some jackass had taken the time to painstakingly scrawl ‘Hydra Blows’ on one of plastic security windows that wasn’t already splattered with blood.

Who could have made it down here ahead of them?

There hadn’t been anyone in the upper floor or in Howard’s office – that had been pretty damned clear, so how had someone managed to get down here at _all_? There weren’t any neatly spray-painted x’s drawn on the walls, so it couldn’t have been Hydra; the intruders were, however, just as ruthless. They had taken the time to kill every single person they came across. Clearly, they were no better, no kinder than the rest of the groups who had come to SI to pillage.

“Who do you think did this?” Bucky asked, staring sullenly at the spray-painted message.

“If I had to guess, I’d think it was someone with _clearance_ ,” Pepper mused. “Obviously we were lied to. There’s more than one way in.”

“This must be Stane’s work,” Rhodey grunted.

“Highly likely,” Pepper agreed.

Tony worried at his lower lip. If Stane was leading the raid, he would have a far better understanding of the layout than anyone else involved; he was the Board’s right hand, after all. Tony hoped to hell that they weren’t too late to get Steve out of this hellhole. They hadn’t seen him again, not even a glimpse of blond hair from around the corner, and there hadn’t been any sign of him having been out and about. Was it because it was too bright down here? Or was it because something had happened to Steve’s physical body?

Tony had tried to call Howard three times already to check and see what was going on and each and every time his call had gone directly to voicemail. He hoped that it was because Howard was busy and not because he was dead. He had mixed feelings when it came to Howard’s wellbeing. As a child, he had sometimes wished for his father’s death on the bad days, the ones when there had been nowhere to go aside from his empty room or his boarding school; back then he had hated his father with his every breath. Now, there was still hate, oh yes, but there was also fear of what the future would be like _without_ Howard constantly breathing down his neck. Tony knew he wasn’t in the will anymore; Howard had made that perfectly clear two years ago when he had invited Tony to one of the empty conference rooms to ‘chat’. But that didn’t matter – it had hurt, sure, but in the long run it hadn’t changed anything. He could make his own money; he didn’t need Howard. It would just be _strange_ not to have Howard in his life anymore. The guy hadn’t _been_ in his life for the most part, but now that he was there, it was surprising to realize just how much of his life Howard had taken over. Tony smiled grimly. Either way, he would be free once this was done – once Steve was no longer one of Howard’s pet projects; he would cut all ties and leave once and for all.

 

The floor opened up into a network of hallways and examination chamber; every one came with a black, padded, leather chair with restraints for a patient and a separate observation room across from it. The glass dividing the two rooms looked _thick_ , and if Tony had to guess, it was probably bullet proof as well as shatter proof. Whatever it was Howard and his team had been doing down here, it had been _dangerous_ and they hadn’t been taking any unnecessary risks.

“How many of those things are there?” Bucky asked, quietly, his gaze locked on one of the rooms where a test subject was still seated, restrained and reclined. The sight seemed to make him nervous.

“I don’t know,” Tony said. He was a little nervous himself. “I guess we’re going to have to count as we go. Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir?” Jarvis said, his voice hissing from the suit’s speakers.

“Start counting the test subjects. I want to know how many of them there are down here,” Tony said.

They walked further down the hallway. Several of the test subjects had broken free from their restraints and were pacing in their examination rooms, their lithe bodies moving in a blur as they ran the distance of the room from left to right. Most seemed to have been broken mentally; they were stick thin, feral, ready to rend flesh from bone. Their hair had fallen out – or perhaps torn out – and their tight, pale skin was almost translucent under the bright fluorescent light. The powder blue scrubs they had been forced to wear were in tatters and while most of the test subjects were still wearing pants, a few were completely naked, stripped of their last shred of dignity. They were not greeted kindly. _Every_ test subject they passed hissed and shrieked at their approach, slapping and clawing at the windows as they tried to break free; they didn’t seem to like anyone. The sight of Bucky’s metal arm cowed them _slightly_ , but otherwise they remained wild with anger.

Tony clenched his fists and tried not to look at the creatures too closely, letting Jarvis do all the hard work. He had to bite his tongue to keep from throwing up; he could smell body odor in the air, mingling with something sharp and antiseptic and it, combined with the smell of his own sweat and cologne made him sick to his stomach. Steve could easily have ended up like these poor bastards, he thought as he gagged silently. Hell, Steve could be locked up in a tiny room, strapped to a chair right _now_.

Tony wondered if Steve had known that living like a caged animal might be in his future before he had signed on for Project: Rebirth. Had _anyone_ really known what was going to happen to the test subjects? Had _Erskine_ known the side effects or the risks? Had Howard? He hoped that Erskine hadn’t understood what SI was trying to do – and if Erskine had known about it, well, Tony was fairly certain that Erskine, and the people who worked with him were nothing but monsters.

“Sir, I have finished my scans, and I believe this isn’t the lowest level of the building,” Jarvis said. His voice popped and hissed, fading for a moment before coming back strong. “There appears to be a holding facility located directly below you, and if my readings are correct, there are several individuals gathered there. I can read twenty separate heat signatures,”

“Great,” Tony muttered. Just what they needed – _more_ soldiers to fight.

“Can you tell us anything else about them?” Bucky asked.

“I am afraid my sensors are limited, Mr. Barnes,” Jarvis said. “Something is interfering with my readings and the suit’s current operating system requires updating before I can fix the issue. However, I believe I know what is causing the interference. There appears to be a large build up of unknown energy somewhere below you, emanating from the holding facility.”

Tony’s brow furrowed. “Unknown energy? How is that possible?” He had written Jarvis’ code to be adaptable; it had taken him a solid five months to get everything the way he had wanted it, and yes, the code probably needed a bit of bug testing, and tweaking like Jarvis had said, but it wasn’t _junk_ from a Radio Shack. How could an energy reading be throwing Jarvis off?

“The data I have been collecting suggest that SI has been well aware of this kind of energy discharge for quite some time, as the fluctuations do not appear to be affecting their equipment,” Jarvis said, seeming to sense Tony’s distress. “Shall I continue recording the readings, sir?”

“Definitely keep recording,” Tony said with a jerky nod. “And while you’re at it, start downloading everything in SI’s system. If this place is going down, I want what they’ve been hiding.”

Bucky smiled thinly. “Planning on starting up your own corporation?”

“Hardly,” Tony scoffed. “I just want to know what happened down here. None of us really know what’s happened to Steve – or to you. For all we know, Steve could be completely insane by the time we get to him.”

Bucky winced. “I hope not.”

“Same here,” Pepper grumbled. “That’d be a real _mood wrecker_ if we get him out only to end up squashed like bugs.”

“Well, Bucky’s sane, so there’s _some_ hope,” Tony murmured.

“Correction. You’re _assuming_ he’s sane,” Rhodey pointed out. “We don’t actually _know_ that.”

Bucky gave Rhodey a dirty look. “If you’ve got something to say to me, say it,” he growled, puffing up. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Rhodey; they glared at each other.

“You two can have your naked mud wrestling session later,” Pepper snapped, exchanging a tired look with Tony. “Eyes on the prize, boys. We are coming out of here alive. Don’t make me kill you myself.”

 

They rounded the corner and came upon another pile of bodies; these were stacked like cordwood against the wall. Blood was pooled around them – or at least it _looked_ like it was blood. Tony made sure the suit’s sensors were facing the corpses, and looked away once Jarvis was done. He steadied himself against the closest wall, closing his eyes to try and get the sight out of his head. It didn’t work; it did, however, make him even more nauseous than before. He cursed under his breath and swallowed down a mouthful of bile. His mouth hadn’t tasted this nasty since had been sick with the flu.

“You ok, Tony?” Rhodey asked.

Tony nodded weakly and straightened up. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Rhodey muttered.

“I know it’s hard, but we have to keep moving,” Pepper said, giving Tony a sympathetic smile.

“I know,” Tony sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.”

They walked in silence for a few seconds before pausing in front of a new stack of bodies.

“I’m just hoping there’s data left to _steal_ ,” Rhodey grunted, nodding to the pile. He scowled at a bloody boot, left lying on the side of the hallway in a puddle of red ooze. “I’m thinking the guys who came in here are planning on taking everything with them.”

“Aside from that boot, you mean,” Bucky snorted.

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Obviously. Although I’m thinking someone has the matching pair somewhere around here.”

“Yes, that’s just lovely,” Tony muttered.

“You got anything better to talk about?” Rhodey asked. “Because boots are starting to look very _interesting_ right about now.”

“You three are the tactical geniuses. Any ideas where to head now?” Tony said, wearily. He still felt sick to his stomach, but he had a feeling that if he could distract himself enough, that feeling might just go away – at least for a little while.

“I’m assuming you need to be in the building in order to keep downloading SI’s files, right?” Pepper asked.

“Sadly, yes,” Tony said. “If I had a better way to do it, I would, but they’ve got jamming equipment all over the place and I don’t think I can get a better signal from anywhere else.”

“Well, we can’t camp out in a room somewhere to wait it out – not with Hydra and Stane’s lackeys wandering around,” Bucky said, drumming his flesh-and-blood fingers on his chin.

Tony shifted his weight, keeping his gaze fixed on the wall. “Good point.”

If it _was_ Obie’s team down here with them, there might be even _less_ time to find Steve and get out; knowing Obie, his minions were planning on stripping mining the place and blowing it up, and that meant they would be already planting timers and explosives. There wouldn’t be time to hide out and wait for data to download.

“So what should we do?” Tony asked again. He was starting to wish that he had studied battle tactics and strategy in his spare time. If he had, he wouldn’t have been feeling so fucking _helpless_.

“About what? The boot? I don’t really give a shit about the boot,” Rhodey grunted.

“I mean what you want to do about – _this_ ,” Tony muttered in exasperation. He gestured to the hallway and rooms around them, bathing the glass in the blue light from the repulsor nodes in his palms.

“Well, I know one thing,” Rhodey said. “Splitting up would be a _very_ bad idea.” He glanced behind them and then shook his head. “The corners are too tight. If something comes running through here, and we’re alone, we’re fucked. I don’t even want to _think_ about what it would be like being down here in the dark. It’s one thing to fight a bunch of asshole soldiers – it’s another to have to fight off people that want to jump on you and bite your throat out.”

The lights flickered once and shut off with a strangled whine.

“I _hate_ you,” Tony grumbled. He pulled the faceplate down. A quick scan told him that this wasn’t an accident; someone had intentionally overloaded the electrical system, and there was no way of telling how long the outage might last – or if the power would return at all.

“You just _had_ to say it,” Pepper muttered.

“Ow!” Rhodey hissed, rubbing the back of his head. “Stop _hitting_ me!”

“You deserved it,” Pepper said.

“I guess that means we’re sticking together for sure,” Bucky said. He squinted in the low light, looking unhappy. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

Rhodey stiffened; his grumpy smile vanished. “I heard it.”

Pepper lifted her gun and flashlight. Her beam mingled with Rhodey’s and bounced off the walls, illuminating a set of glowing eyes at the end of the corridor. The eyes vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

“Just what were they doing down here?” Pepper grunted. “This doesn’t seem safe.”

“I’m pretty sure Howard knew it wasn’t,” Tony said. He flipped the faceplate up. “They’re keeping this section of the building separate from the development team up top. There’s probably a very good reason for that,” he said, his voice once more modulated by the suit’s speakers. “Heads up – I’ve got heat signatures coming straight towards us, and they’re moving fast.”

“Roger that,” Pepper said. “Are they human targets?”

“Does it matter?” Bucky muttered. “Even if they’re humans, they don’t look like they’re here for a _friendly conversation_.”

Their attackers weren’t Hydra, or any other type of armed human; they were test subjects and they were _fast_ , moving with such raw speed and agility, it seemed impossible that they had ever been human to begin with. These test subjects had the same gaunt appearance as the creatures in the examination rooms, but they were far worse to look at. Their eyes were bulging in their sockets and their clothing was splattered with blood. They scrambled along on all fours and despite their demonic gait, moved together as though they had been trained to do so; they hissed, nimbly avoiding one another, clearly at home in the dark.

Pepper fired the first shot. Chaos took over the hallway; the creature she hit went down with a bullet in its brain – the rest scattered, clambering up the walls, shrieking as they went. They threw themselves through the air to avoid being hit, their clawed hands raised in attack. Some of the creatures even managed to make their way up onto the ceiling; there they clung, darting along as though they were spiders out to kill a trapped fly.

Bucky took down the first creature that was stupid enough to get close to him, moving confidently even though he had no flashlight beam through which to see his opponents. He stabbed a test subject through the throat and tossed it to the side with a graceful sweep of his arm, slicing up another before it could sneak any closer. It was easy to see that he was a trained killer; he wasn’t even phased when blood splattered his face. He simply moved on to the next target.

Pepper and Rhodey opened fire again, taking down the creatures still coming at them with short, precise bursts. They turned, synchronized, in a slow half-circle. Neither of them missed a shot; they always managed to hit something, although it wasn’t always a clean kill-shot. Tony had known that they were excellent marksmen, but he hadn’t known that they were _this_ good, especially with such tricky targets.

Tony knew he couldn’t just sit around and wait for the others to do all the work. With a grimace, he fired up his repulsors and shot down the test subjects scurrying across the ceiling towards them. One of the creatures did a three-point-turn when a repulsor blast came too close to its head and let out a shriek; it threw itself through the air when Tony stumbled backwards at the sound, landing on Tony’s shoulders, biting and scratching at the armor. The creature let out a long, piercing wail when nothing it did had any effect.

“Come here, you little piece of _shit_ ,” Bucky snarled. He seized the creature by the leg and smashed it against the wall, handling the extra weight as if it was nothing.

Tony finished the creature with a precise blast to the head. “Thanks,” he panted. Even with the suit filtering the air, he could still smell the thick scent of body odor and blood; he gave his head a shake.

“Not a problem,” Bucky grunted. He turned and snatched up another creature, breaking its neck with his cybernetic hand as it tried to slash at him.

It was gruesome work, but there was no way around it. If they had stopped or slowed, they would have ended up dead. There was reasoning with these creatures; they didn’t speak, and didn’t seem to be capable of thinking for themselves aside from defensively. By the time the last of the test subjects was dead, the hallway was painted with their blood. They kicked the creatures’ bodies to the side of the hallway and waited uneasily for more attackers to emerge from the darkness.

“Do you see anything?” Rhodey rasped. He freed a fresh clip from his pocket and ejected the empty one, slapping the fresh one in place. He tossed the empty clip aside. His left eye was twitching uncontrollably; he rubbed at it absently, his gaze still fixed on the end of the hallway where his flashlight beam ended.

“I’m not reading any new heat signatures,” Tony said, turning in a slow circle.

“I’m thinking now’s a good time to move,” Bucky growled. He wiped the blood off of his knife and face and started forwards into the dark hall.

Tony hurried after him, his every step emitting a metallic clank. “Shouldn’t _I_ be leading? You do realize I’m the one walking around in armor, right?”

“I noticed,” Bucky said, dryly.

“So why don’t I take the front?” Tony said.

“Stark,” Bucky said, wearily, “ _who_ is the trained assassin here?”

Tony scowled. He debated on flipping the faceplate up so Bucky could see but decided he preferred his face unclawed and safe from harm instead. “Yeah, yeah. Still – I’m the one with the best night vision, pal.”

“Then I’ll be perfectly safe, because you’ll see anything ahead of me,” Bucky said.

Tony snorted. “Fine. Have it your way.”

“Did we sign up as babysitters without knowing it?” Rhodey asked, turning to Pepper.

Pepper shrugged. “I guess so. I hope we get a good tip at the end of the night.”

 

 

They kept close together and cleared every room they passed before moving on. Their surroundings became more battered the deeper they went. The computer equipment they found – when they found it – was smashed and charred; sections of the wall paneling were torn open where someone had decided to splice wires together, likely to get a door open.

They found bloody footprints as they turned the next corner.

Tony scanned the footprints. They weren’t as smeared as the ones they had found after the test subjects had attacked; these looked like they had been made by someone taking slow, deliberate steps.

The blood on the walls here looked strange; it was dripping in smooth, straight lines as though someone had been chopping at people with something sharp.

“I’m betting that’s Steve,” Bucky said, softly. He shook his head. “I think he used to have a shield with sharp edges.”

“I hope you’re right,” Tony said. He didn’t want to get his head chopped off, but at least they now knew that they were getting closer to their target.

“Does that mean he’s made it out of whatever cell he’s being held in?” Pepper asked. She pursed her lips in displeasure. “Never mind,” she said. Her flashlight illuminated Steve standing off in the distance. “I think I just answered my own question.”

Steve didn’t turn and look at them; he seemed oblivious to their presence. He disappeared, leaving bloody footsteps in his wake. Bucky took off after him at a sprint.

Tony straightened up and darted after Bucky. “Slow _down_ , you jackass!” he snapped as the suit’s servos went into overdrive to keep him moving. “He’s just going to disappear again!”

“He’s still there,” Bucky hissed, gesturing to the hallway beyond them. “I can see him!”

Tony scanned ahead, searching for heat signatures. When nothing showed up, despite Steve being very obviously in the hallway with them, he sighed and shook his head. “It’s an illusion,” he said, grabbing Bucky by the arm. “He’s not there.”

Bucky tried to jerk out of Tony’s grasp, but Tony refused to let go. They couldn’t split up; Bucky was a great fighter, but alone he would be overwhelmed and devoured.

“Bucky,” Tony said, softly. “He’s not _real_.”

“He _looks_ real,” Bucky said, plaintively, his shoulders slumping.

“He’s gone,” Pepper panted, as she and Rhodey caught up. She shot Bucky a dark look and seemed ready to club him with the butt of her rifle. “Keep your head in the game, Barnes. That isn’t Steve Rogers.”

“Well,” Tony muttered. “Technically speaking, it _is_ him.”

“So you’re saying the serum lets him teleport around and walk through walls?” Rhodey snorted. “And when did you get to be an expert on the serum? I thought you built things for a living – you’re not a researcher.”

“I got a good look at Bruce’s notes,” Tony grumbled irritably. “Bruce didn’t know _everything_ , but he knew what the serum was supposed to do, and he knew that it wasn’t supposed to turn anyone into a fucking _ghost_.”

“It would be nice if we could ask Banner ourselves,” Rhodey muttered. “But I have a feeling no one’s going to be talking to him for a long time. I hope he’s back to normal, because I do not want to have to go hunting him down. They’re going to need a whole bunch of rocket launchers to take him down – if that even scratches him.”

Tony shook his head sadly. “I wish you weren’t right about that.”

“Same here,” Rhodey said.

Tony sighed.

Steve turned and stared vacantly at Tony.

“Steve?” Tony called out. He remembered the armor’s modulated voice and flipped up the faceplate. “Steve?”

Steve vanished.

“Damn it,” Pepper said. She turned to Tony, her expression pinched. “Is he leading us somewhere in particular? Or is he just fucking with us?”

“Who knows,” Rhodey growled. He slapped Tony on the shoulder and then winced. “Keep your faceplate shut, and let’s get moving. I don’t like that we’ve been alone down here for so long.”

“Agreed,” Bucky muttered. He looked around, gnawing on his lower lip. “We may as well look where he was trying to lead us.”

“ _If_ that’s what he was doing,” Pepper sighed.

 

 

The bloody footsteps ended at a closed door.

Tony scanned the hallway and found it free of heat signatures other than their own. The soldiers – or whoever it had been who had trampled through here – had long since moved on. He reached for the door and nearly ripped it off its hinges when his cellphone rang.

Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. “Really? You set _Star Spangled Man_ as your ringtone?”

“ _Hey_ ,” Tony said, searching through his bag for his phone, “Don’t look at me like that! It was on _sale_.”

“Yeah right,” Rhodey snorted. “Like anyone believes that bullshit.”

Tony opened the faceplate up and held the phone up to his ear delicately, trying not to crush it between his gauntleted fingers. With Jarvis busy raiding the SI servers, he couldn’t risk having the suit answer the phone. He would have to answer it the old fashioned way; there was no way in hell he was going to hand the phone over to Pepper – not when she was glaring at him. He liked his testicles where they were, thank-you-very-much.

“Hello?” Tony said.

Howard’s voice was sharp. “ _Where_ are you?”

“Why do you want to know?” Tony asked. He mouthed Howard’s name to the others.

Pepper’s glare softened _marginally_ ; Rhodey’s glare intensified.

“Are you in the building or not?” Howard snapped. “Don’t fuck _around_ , boy. God knows you’ve wasted enough of my time over the years.”

Howard’s words were like a whip to the face. He caught sight of Steve’s bloody footprints and sighed inwardly. He would have to suck it up and take the abuse; Steve’s wellbeing was more important than his.

“I’m one floor zero,” Tony said through gritted teeth.

Howard breathed loudly into the phone but didn’t speak.

“I told you before. I’m here for Steve,” Tony said.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Howard said, his voice oddly flat. He hung up.

Tony scowled at the phone.

“Did he just _hang up on you_?” Rhodey growled.

The phone rang again. _Star Spangled Man with a Plan_ rang out. Tony answered the phone, trying not to grind his teeth into dust. “Hello?”

“Who else did you bring down here with you?” Howard said.

“They’re my friends,” Tony said, slowly. He didn’t want to even casually mention Bucky ; it was better to save that little detail for later, when it came down to outright bartering, because with Howard, that’s always what it turned into.

“Did you shut off the power?” Howard asked, his voice going dangerously soft. Tony had only ever heard Howard speak like that when he was getting ready to smack someone; sadly, it hadn’t been a long time since he had heard that tone last.

“No, Howard,” Tony said, stiffly. “We aren’t _complete_ dumbasses. We did _not_ shut the power off.”

“The test subjects will get out,” Howard said. “You need to be careful with them. They aren’t human anymore. They’re vicious, and they haven’t been fed today.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “We figured there was something wrong with them. They’re dead, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“There are over seventy five test subjects in this building, Tony,” Howard scoffed. “I _highly_ doubt you got them _all_.”

A shiver ran down Tony’s spine; despite the suit’s internal heating, he suddenly felt _very_ cold. There were _seventy five test_ subjects waiting down here? Did they even have seventy five _bullets left_?

“We killed ten,” Tony said, swallowing thickly.

“Good,” Howard said. “I’ve always advocated for their destruction, but Obadiah didn’t like that idea. He thought they would yield good money on the open market. He kept trying to get me to dump them in the Vault, but I refused.”

“The Vault?” Tony said, slowly. “What’s that?”

“It’s where we keep what’s left of Steve Rogers,” Howard snorted. “I’d have thought _you’d_ know that much considering you’re on a supposed _rescue_ mission.”

Tony ignored the jab. “We’ve been busy. Obie’s made his own little band of killers, by the way,” he said. He scanned their surroundings again and followed along as Bucky started through the door Steve had lead them to moments before. The air was thicker in the new room and colder too; condensation dripped down the steel walls.

Howard’s voice crackled; the line went dead momentarily.

“Hold on,” Tony said. He found a better spot with reception and raised a hand to get the others to stop walking. “I lost you for a second there.”

Bucky stilled with a huff, a look of displeasure on his face. “We need to move. You can chat with your jackass of a father later.”

“I _know_ we need to move,” Tony snapped. “Just give me a second.”

“You’ll need a code to get down here,” Howard said. “I’m assuming you’re not going to give up even if I tell you it’s a lost cause?”

“We’re not giving up on him,” Tony said.

“The code is 11945,” Howard said with a sigh. “Can you remember that?”

“Yes I can remember that,” Tony mocked. “Jesus – who do you think I am?”

“I know who you are, Anthony,” Howard said. “You’re a fuck up, and you always will be.”

Tony hung up. He handed the phone off to Pepper. “Take this before I do something I’m going to regret,” he said.

“You want me to save it for you so when we see him, you can shove it up his ass?” Pepper asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Because I can do that. Hell, I’ll help you do it.”

Tony smiled reluctantly. “You know me too well, Pep.”

“Sadly, yes, we all do,” Rhodey said, shouldering Tony out of the way.

Bucky scowled. “Are we heading to the lower floor or not?”

“Keep your pants on, Wiener Soldier,” Rhodey grunted. “We’ll get there when we get there. Tony – take point.”

“Yes sir,” Tony said. He flipped the faceplate down and started walking again. He didn’t miss the murderous glare Bucky sent Rhodey; neither did Rhodey.

 

 

The elevator was easy to find; it was out in the open, completely surrounded by open security checkpoints. It accepted Howard’s code and let them in without protest. That was reassuring, but at the same time, it made Tony extremely uneasy; if Howard could grant access to the elevators, he could just as easily revoke it. Did this mean they were safe down here or were they walking into an even more dangerous trap? They didn’t discuss their options; there wasn’t any need. They couldn’t leave _now_ , even if they wanted to – not with Steve so close by. If Pepper and Rhodey had wanted out, they hadn’t said anything.

They settled in the elevator in silence before hitting the down button. This elevator was gigantic compared to the one they had used to get to the basement labs; it was likely used for freight. Tony didn’t like it.

Just what kind of freight had Howard and his minions been moving down here? And why did they only have the one elevator? Did that mean that things down here weren’t _meant_ to leave?

Did the test subjects know about the elevators? Could they move about freely? Or were they sealed in the lower levels with them? Tony hoped that they _were_ sealed in, even if that meant they were going to have to fight their way through seventy five of bastards; at least then the creatures wouldn’t be able to get out and terrorize the general public.

 

 

The elevator doors opened to reveal dangling wires and flickering lights in the hallway outside. The walls here were riddled with bullet holes. There were thick smears of blood shaped like handprints to their left and straight tears in the metal, slices that were similar to the ones they had seen up above, to their right. There was blood, but there were no bodies.

The security doors in the distance were half-open and stuck.

They stepped out of the elevator and scoped out the corridor.

“Where did Howard say they were keeping Steve?” Bucky asked, keeping his voice low. In the dark it was impossible to tell if someone was sneaking up on them unless the suit’s sensors picked up on it, and he knew better than to draw more attention than necessary.

“He said they were keeping Steve in the Vault,” Tony murmured. Howard had been intentionally vague. Tony hadn’t exactly been _surprised_ by that, of course. Howard always had been a bit tight-lipped it came to doling out information, and getting something from him on the best of days was hard, let alone when he was stressed and furious. He wondered if they could even _trust_ Howard. Howard hadn’t _seemed_ angrier than usual, but then again, it was hard to tell with him; sometimes, Howard seemed absolutely fine – up until he screamed in your face. Tony rubbed absently at the suit’s left arm, remembering the way Howard had always grabbed him when he was irritated; the bruises had never seemed to go away back then – they hadn’t disappeared entirely until he had started avoiding contact with Howard entirely. Tony sighed and let his hand drop, irritated by the distraction. There was one sure-fire way to tell if Howard was telling them was the truth. Jarvis was making sure they had all of SI and _Howard’s_ precious files at their disposal, and soon, there would be no secrets SI had that he didn’t know. “Jarvis, do me a favor. Look through Howard’s files – see if he’s trying to fuck with us,” Tony said, grimly. He refused to let himself be lulled into a false sense of security.

Howard didn’t want them breaking Steve out, so it stood to reason that he might be trying to send them on a wild goose chase. Doing a little digging would make him feel safer, and at least then they wouldn’t _accidentally_ end up in a garbage compactor or in a pit of demonic, mouth-foaming test subjects. Tony was still surprised by the fact that the elevator _hadn’t_ seized up on them; Howard loved to trap people in elevators – he had done it to every one of his secretaries and assistants over the years. He turned his attention to the suit’s HUD and paged through the blueprints Jarvis was still downloading and sorting, speed reading everything he could, even the stuff was half-finished. Tony huffed out a laugh, aware that it sounded more than a little hysterical. _Shit_. He had gigs and gigs of data, but none of it was of any use. He drummed his fingers on his arm. What were they going to do now?

“Were you looking for something in _particular_?” Pepper drawled, “Or were you just counting tumbleweeds?” She knocked her knuckle on the side of the suit’s helmet.

Tony took in a sharp breath. He hated giving out bad news. “It seems that while Howard and _every single employee_ in this building loved storing information on their private servers, no matter how inane and useless, no one bothered uploading a complete floor plan for the basement levels. I mean, there’s a scan of a pencil drawing done on piece of paper that has some vague _squares_ on it with words that may or may not match the names of the rooms we’ve been walking by, but it doesn’t look recent. This place was built to be invisible – the only people who know it are the people who work down here, and I don’t think we’re going to run into anyone who does – not anyone alive, at least.”

“ _Fantastic_ ,” Bucky grunted.

“The good news is that, while I might not have an actual _map_ , I think we can narrow the search down a little,” Tony said as they started walking again. “If Howard’s got Steve in a Vault – or whatever the hell that room is – it’s going to be a big drain on their system. It’s going to have backups and backups for the backups.”

“Understandable,” Bucky said, scanning the hallway for attackers.

“They’re convinced Steve is dangerous, so they’re not going to go easy on the restraints. Those are going to be the tough part,” Tony said.

“Let me guess. You helped design them?” Bucky asked.

“I was the lead designer on the project, back when they were still arguing over the specs,” Tony muttered, bitterly. “I always wondered what the fuck SI was going to do with that kind of tech. Howard always told me it was contractual work for SHIELD.”

“It probably was to some extent,” Pepper said. “They’ve got a couple of lockdown floors of their own. If we’re lucky, they’re going to be similar.”

“Oh? You’ve been in one before?” Tony asked, perking up.

“They sent us down there for training,” Pepper said with a shrug. “Do you remember what we’re dealing with?”

“Not really,” Tony grumbled. “I remember working on the second and third drafts for the main physical restraints, but after that, I got cut out of the loop. Howard stopped putting me on his design teams – he sent me to work on weaponry instead. He said I was making _low quality goods_ and I needed something more _remedial_ to teach me patience.”

“Right,” Rhodey snorted. “I take it he’s never seen your work before?”

Tony shrugged. “I kind of expected it, especially after the Board seemed so happy with my initial mock-ups. Howard never did like sharing the spotlight, even if it was with people on his team.”

“Sounds like the Board meetings must have been a real _hoot_ ,” Bucky said. He paused at a security door and peered through the fogged-up glass, checking for visitors before speaking again. “So this Vault – what do you think it’ll be like? I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it’s more than just a big room with fancy locks on the doors.”

“They’re probably running power dampeners and everything they can think of to keep Steve from so much as _breathing_ without permission,” Tony reasoned. He clenched his fists. He should have known something was wrong when Howard asked him to study Adamantium; there never _had_ been a good reason to use that kind of restraint on anyone. It had seemed like overkill at the time, but now he knew exactly why Howard had gone out of his way to give Tony the best materials for the project. Steve’s strength must have demanded it.

“Ok,” Pepper said. “So we’ve got power dampeners to look for. What else?”

“They’ll need heavy-duty cables to get the amount of energy they need,” Tony said. “And I’m pretty sure they don’t want the power _ever_ going out to the Vault, so it’s going to be the biggest drain in the system.”

“Right,” Rhodey said. “Let’s follow the power then.”

“There’s one _teensy_ problem,” Tony said, halting Rhodey with a hand on his shoulder.

Rhodey scowled. “Don’t tell me that fancy suit of your can’t read the electrical grid.”

“Oh, I can read the grid just fine,” Tony said. “The problem is that there are forty guys who got a head start on us, and they appear to be standing where the power levels are the highest.”

Pepper sighed despairingly. “Why am I not surprised?”

“They’re surrounding Steve?” Bucky asked. His metal fist clenched.

“Hold on there, Bucky-Bear,” Tony said. He let the suit run yet another scan, wanting to be absolutely sure he caught every last detail. The electrical readings he was getting appeared smoothly over top of the floor plan he had mapped out so far; Jarvis wasn’t completely finished with his scan, but he still had enough processing power to do this much. Tony turned to the left, facing an empty, bleak-looking corridor with thick metal doors. “If I’m reading things right, the Vault is down this way,” he said, pointing to the left. “The rest of the assholes are to the right.”

“Any reason why they’re there?” Rhodey asked. “Is it an idiot convention?”

“I’m not even sure the readings are _human_ ,” Tony said, quietly, his eyes widening. He glanced to the right and took a jerky step backwards as he rushed to correct his movements. “Shit. I’m getting heat signatures and they’re moving too fast to be soldiers.”

They ran to the left and yanked open the metal door blocking their way; with the power out, everything was automatically unlocked, which meant that while they had free access and easy movement, so did their enemies. It wasn’t just the exterior doors that had opened when the lights and security had gone out – it was _every_ door. Every dirty secret SI had been trying to hide from the world was now running free and it was likely that most of those secrets were going to try to kill and possibly eat them.

The hallway opened up into a set of rooms, both of which were divided into twin chambers; these were operating theatres – not testing chambers like the ones they had seen on the floor above them. Tony glanced nervously at the rows of padded, leather, chairs surrounding them. Had people really gathered here to watch what was happening like it was some kind of soap opera? He had known that this sort of thing had happened on _television_ , but he hadn’t known it was something people enjoyed doing in _real life_. Did they come here with their popcorn and snacks? Did they comment on what they saw and laugh when arterial spray shot up onto the ceiling?

A pair of test subjects lay convulsing on twin gurneys down below, their surgeries only just started. There was no way to know how long they had been there, but it was clear that they hadn’t been the only patients. Three more gurneys lay on their sides, their padding shredded and thrown about. There was a large, gaping hole in the glass dome that had sheltered the operating theatre; blood was smeared around the jagged opening, and Tony could make out misshaped fingerprints on the glass. Five members of SI, who Tony could only assume were nurses, and two doctors, lay eviscerated on the operating room floor. A quick glance at the ceiling told Tony that something had managed to get in through one of the air vents up above the operating room; there was only one left that hadn’t been torn apart, and the metal was pushed outwards, not inwards. The thought of those _creatures_ clambering around in the vents above them made Tony cringe even though he was safe inside his suit. Please, he thought in a panic, please let there only be three of them up there. They could handle three.

Bucky paled when he caught sight of the operating theatre and hung back, glancing at the flailing and screaming test subjects still trapped in their own private hell. “Is that what they did to me?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Was I in one of these rooms too?”

Tony fired his repulsors, aiming the beam through the hole in the glass and killed the struggling creatures. It was the best he could do under the circumstances; at least they didn’t have to suffer anymore. “I don’t know, Bucky,” he said, shaking his head. “You were here when Erskine was in control of the labs.” Tony didn’t know what else to say; he could offer no comfort. The operating theatre had new equipment in it, and it had been kept well-maintained but the seats had a lived-in quality to them – the leather was cracked and worn; it was likely that this room _wasn’t_ a new addition. This place had to have been original to the building. Maybe back then it had been installed for teaching purposes – maybe Erskine had used it to show his assistants the proper procedures so they wouldn’t harm patients. Jarvis had found a directory on the SI servers filled with videos from the surgeries that had taken place here over the years; Tony wasn’t so sure he wanted to look at them, but the answers would be there, buried under a layer of terror and gore. For now he could only offer lame, pathetic platitudes, and he knew that wouldn’t help Bucky.

“What happened to this Erskine guy? Where did he go?” Bucky asked. He was hunched over and practically tearing at his hair. He dropped to his knees.

Tony opened up the faceplate and knelt down in front of Bucky. “He died,” he said, softly. “Erskine was assassinated by Hydra.”

Bucky’s lower lip quivered. “So who sent me out? Who lost me?”

Tony moved closer, letting Bucky wrap his hands around the suit’s biceps; Bucky’s metal fingers dug in especially tightly, but didn’t do any damage. Tony knew what it was like to need an anchor, and if this was what Bucky needed, he would be there. This was Steve’s friend – a man who had been treated just as badly as Steve – and he deserved to have someone treat him fairly for once in his life.

“Howard was the guy who gave the order to stop looking,” Tony said. He couldn’t lie – not about something like this. Howard had been ruthless, and it had been his overzealousness that had lost Bucky Barnes to Hydra in the first place; there was no covering that up – no smoothing it over, not this time.

Bucky stiffened in Tony’s grasp. He looked up; his eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and the curl of his lips was wild. “Your _father_ did it?”

“Howard did this,” Tony murmured.

“Guys?” Pepper said, clearing her throat.

Tony glanced at Pepper over his shoulder.

“I think we need to move,” Pepper said, nodding to the vents above them. The metal venting bulged downwards with a loud bang as something inside scurried towards them.

“Oh fuck off,” Rhodey growled. He grabbed Tony by the arm and heaved him towards the door. “Move it. Less crying – you can do that later.” When Bucky hesitated, still struggling to regain his control, he seized him by the arm and yanked him to his feet. “Get it _together_ , Barnes. Didn’t you hear me? You can break down later – right now we need to go!”

Bucky dropped his hands and hurried after Tony; he drew his hunting knife again and kept it at the ready.

They ran, their feet thudding against the cement.

The creatures in the venting were persistent; they hissed and pounded at the metal separating them from their prey, trying and failing to break through. Tony was glad SI had gone through the trouble of buying high quality metal, because if they had cheaped out, there would have been a dozen test subjects raining down on them. The suit’s sensors could see every one of their heat signatures.

Bucky yanked open the next security door with his metal arm, heaving it aside and went down with a muffled thump.

Tony stumbled after him, trying to spot had happened. It was darker than hell down here; the lights weren’t even flickering anymore. His sensors picked up on the body lying in front of him. He nearly stepped on it. “Bucky?” Tony called out.

The sound hit him before he even realized what it was; the pitch was so high, it hurt to hear it. Tony staggered, dropping the suit’s faceplate to muffle it, but the others had no such protection. He heard Pepper and Rhodey tumble through the doorway and saw them land in a heap nearby. Bucky remained where he had fallen on the floor, his eyes wide and horrified.

Tony managed to prop himself up against the wall before his strength gave out; despite closing the faceplate the sound had done its job. His muscles had gone lax and the only thing keeping him from tipping over was the suit’s locked joints. He was paralyzed. He could hear Jarvis yelling in his helmet, but he couldn’t even open his mouth to ask for help.

“Tony, Tony, Tony.” Tiberius’ voice came from the darkness. He turned on a flashlight and illuminated the hallway enough to see the door; he shut it quickly, before any of the test subjects stalking the halls could get in and then turned and kicked Pepper, rolling her over with his boot. She glared up at him.

“You know,” Tiberius said, shaking his head. “I didn’t think you were going to make it all the way down here – not without Romanoff and Barton to clear the way. You’ve gotten stronger since I saw you last.”

Tony struggled, trying to move his head, but couldn’t.

Tiberius pulled a pair of ear plugs from his ears and tucked them into his vest’s breast pocket. He held up a oval green and black device – one Tony recognized and tucked it into his pant pocket. “You can thank Stane for all of this, by the way. He had your Sonic Taser put through R&D even through the Board didn’t want to sell it,” he said. He sneered down at Tony’s armor, looking at it as thought it was a piece of seafood someone had dropped on the subway. “He never mentioned that you had made yourself a new toy. I’m surprised he didn’t say anything. He likes it when you make him shiny things to play with – would you have given it to him too?” Tiberius gave the suit a kick and leaned closer. “Did you let him bend you over a desk? Hm? I know you used to like it when I did that to you. You used to scream all the time, begging me for more and I was alright with it, I suppose, but it got tedious after a while. I bet he got bored too, didn’t he. I bet Stane got tired of your pert little ass begging for more. He’s old – not that you’re a spring chicken yourself – and he loves the attention. Tell me. Did you blow him? Did you go down on your knees and suck his wrinkly, old, cock?” He smirked when Tony didn’t respond. “You did, didn’t you? You dirty little _whore_.”

Tiberius peered down at Tony as though he was inspecting a grade-schooler’s essay for errors. “My, my,” he said, shaking his head. “You really went out of your way to protect yourself. Figures.” He chuckled. “You always did what you had to do to make sure you were taken care of.”

Tiberius tapped on the helmet’s faceplate. “Open up, _darling_ ,”

The faceplate remained down; the eyes in the suit and arc reactor glowed blue in the darkness. Tony seethed inside the suit, ready to spit in Ty’s face.

“Stubborn as always,” Tiberius sighed. He pulled a small, black, box out of his pocket and tossed it from hand to hand. “You know, I ran out ammo _hours_ ago. They should really have sold the tasers to the government like Stane suggested. They run like a _dream_.” He pressed the black box to Tony’s suit and grinned as a timer began to count down. The box remained stuck to the suit’s breastplate.

“You’re just lucky I don’t have the time to really take you and your suit apart piece by piece,” Tiberius grumbled.

The timer counted down from thirty one second at a time.

Tony breathed in sharply through his nose as the EMP went off. The suit stiffened around him; the arc reactor, and the suit’s lights went dark. Tony fell out of the suit as it crashed forwards, deadweight. The cement beneath him was cold and tasted faintly of soap.

Tiberius pulled a Shock Baton from his belt and slapped it against the palm of his hand, turning it on. He circled Tony, leering down at him. “It’s not fair,” Tiberius said, kicking Tony in the gut. “You get _everything_ you want and you never have to do any real work.”

Tony squeezed his eyes shut as pain coursed through his body. He knew what was coming; Tiberius had always liked hitting things, and he was good at it. That was one of the reasons they had broken up all those years ago; it had always been kinky and fun until Ty lost his _temper_. The next blow pushed the last of the air from Tony’s lungs. He wheezed, his hands curled in claws in front of him and tried to suck in more air before the next blow came, but it didn’t help. He couldn’t catch his breath.

Tiberius was _ruthless_. He kicked Tony again and again, occasionally bringing in his Shock Baton to prod Tony in the back, sending electricity coursing through his body. “You little whore. You left me. You think you can get away with that? Huh? You are mine.” Tiberius only stopped his ranting when he noticed that Bucky was trying to get up. He pulled the earplugs casually from his pockets and made the Sonic Taser sing, knocking them helpless all over again.

“You people make me _sick_ ,” Tiberius growled, tucking the Taser and earplugs back into his pocket. “Having to listen you idiots yammer away on the comm was like having my fingernails ripped out. You three never shut the fuck up.” He gave Tony another kick, nailing him squarely in the groin and grinned as Tony whimpered. “Fuck you, Tony. _Fuck you_.” Tiberius chuckled. He bent down and hoisted Tony up, propping him up against the wall so he could look him in the eye. He leaned forwards, putting his face close to Tony’s as though leaning in for a kiss. “You know, when they offered to let me come here, I thought they were _kidding_. No one wanted to take on Howard Stark – even if he was _crazy_.” He smiled thinly. “Of course, they’re not here for him. You know that, don’t you?”

When Tony didn’t nod, Tiberius continued to talk, still smiling. “I know! It’s such a _shocker_ , right? They’re here for Howard’s files and his work. They don’t give a shit about _you_ or any of the other engineers Howard scooped up – all they want is the work. Replication is so much easier when you have all the details, and hey,” he said, patting Tony roughly on the cheek. “It’ll be easier for everyone involved when the old test subjects are destroyed. And at least you won’t have to bend over and let that old man fuck you anymore.”

Something flickered in the darkness up ahead.

Tiberius frowned and reached for his earplugs and the Sonic Taser. When nothing appeared in the hallway, he pulled out a small walkie-talkie, one no bigger than the palm of his hand, and held it up. “What’s going on over there?” he said. “I thought you were wrapping things up.”

“Oh, _Stone_ ,” Romanoff’s voice rang out through the radio, the sweetest tune Tony had heard in days, “You’re not getting out of here that easily.”

Tiberius paled. “ _Romanoff_? How the fuck did you get down here?”

“I _walked_ – just like everybody else,” Romanoff said. “Did you _really_ think you were going to take me out?”

“I saw you and Barton go down,” Tiberius growled. He looked around in agitation, as though expecting to see Romanoff at every turn. “You’re dead. I know you are.”

“Are we?” Barton laughed, his voice crackling lowly through the radio. “Really? We’re _dead_? That’s funny. I don’t feel dead, do you Nat?”

“You’re _dead_ ,” Tiberius hissed. He glared down at Tony. “This is one of _your_ tricks, isn’t it?”

Tony blinked up at Tiberius. He had no idea what Tiberius was talking about, but he knew there was nothing he could say – if he had been able to speak – that would persuade Ty that he had nothing to do with what was going on. He wondered if Tiberius was high _again_.

Tiberius had always liked the drugs a little more than he had anything else in life; his personal favourite, DreamVision, was a powerful hallucinogenic that had put thousands of people into comas. Tony had only learned about it because it had put Tiberius in the hospital, and he had been the only one on Ty’s emergency contact list at that point in their relationship. Ty had burned every last connection he had had. The doctors had begged Tony to keep Tiberius off of the drugs. They had warned him about what might happen – that there might be fights and attacks. He had tried helping Tiberius – he really had, but keeping Ty way from the stuff hadn’t done any good; Tiberius had stayed the same abusive, mouthy, rich brat he had always been, and he was worse when he _wasn’t_ on the drugs. They had broken it off after Ty had headed off to rehab for the third time, and Tony was damned glad that he had been the one to cut the cord, because this was not something he had thought Ty capable of; battery, yes, verbal assaults, yes. But murder? No. He hadn’t thought Tiberius capable of murder; he didn’t like being proven wrong.

“I’m assuming you’re yelling at _Tony_ , right?” Romanoff asked. “Did he _look_ at you? Is that why you’re going out of your mind? You’re obsessed with him, Ty. You know that, right? You need to get over him.”

The lights in the hallway flickered again, briefly illuminating everything. Tony saw a glass security door twenty feet away; he could just make out the blurry faces of the test subjects pressed up against it as they fought to break through.

“What are you doing?” Tiberius said, shrilly. “ _Stop_ that!”

“Stop _what_?” Barton grunted. “You’re seeing things, pal.”

“What are you doing to the lights?” Tiberius snapped.

“We’re not _touching_ the lights,” Romanoff said, cheerfully. “We’re accessing the Vault.”

Tiberius dropped the radio and ran for the door. He yanked it open and disappeared, leaving it open in his wake as he ran for freedom.

Tony slowly slumped against the wall. He could feel pins and needles in his arms and legs, and was glad for them, even if they did make his eyes water and the pain worse. Movement was slow to come back, but it was coming back and that was all that mattered. He managed to turn his head so he could look out the open door and immediately regretted it.

The creatures had broken free from the vents and were stalking the hallway, on patrol. The first to reach the doorway staggered and fell over, its eyes rolling back in its head, when the Sonic Taser rang out in the distance; the rest tumbled after it, lying sprawled in the doorway.

Tony hadn’t been this close to them while outside the suit. The smell of body odor and vomit grew so strong, he was afraid he was going to pass out from just a whiff of it. Laboriously, he rolled himself away from them and patted at the floor, looking for a weapon. The Iron Man suit was dead in the water, still paralyzed by the EMP, and was of no use unless he wanted to crawl inside and watch his friends die. He needed a gun – or something sharp.

Tony found Pepper’s rifle with a lucky sweep of his arm. He lifted it up, aiming as best he could and pulled the trigger, firing at the pile of test subjects.

His aim was _awful_ ; he hit maybe three of the ten creatures, and it wasn’t enough. He could see them _twitching_ as they tried to stand and knew that it was only a matter of time before they lunged at him. He pulled the trigger again. Nothing happened. The rifle clicked again and again and again. “Shit, shit, shit,” Tony hissed. He looked around, but there were no freshly loaded magazines lying on the ground, waiting to be scooped up. There was nothing to use – no bullets to fire.

Pepper sat up with a low groan. She pulled the gun from Tony’s hands and wrestled a new magazine from her belt, yanking the old one out and slapping the new one in its place. “It’s ok,” she slurred, aiming at the pile of test subjects as they struggled to rise. “I’ve got this.” She fired and didn’t stop until every last one of the creatures was dead. The sound was deafening in the cramped corridor.

Rhodey and Bucky sat up slowly, propping themselves up against the walls to keep from tipping over, their breathing labored and quick.

“How the hell are you up and moving?” Rhodey grunted, flopping a hand uselessly in Pepper’s direction.

“I’ve been listening to Tony’s shitty metal bands for years,” Pepper said, grinning at Rhodey. “What’s a little high pitched _whine_ going to do to me? I’ve heard it all before.”

Rhodey laughed, thumping his head against the wall. “Damn it, Potts,” he said, between breaths. “That’s _cruel_.”

Pepper shrugged and forced herself onto her knees. “What can I say?” she said, resting her rifle in the crook of her am. “Three cheers for Tony. If he didn’t have such horrible taste in music, we’d be dead right now.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, because _country_ music is so much better.”

Pepper scowled and hoisted herself upright. She dusted her knees off.

The others stood slowly and shakily, leaning on each other’s shoulders.

“Tiberius Stone is a _dickwad_ ,” Pepper said. She wrapped her arm around Tony’s shoulder and reeled him in, tucking him against her. “You know that, right?”

Tony nodded feebly. “I know.”

“He’s a liar – a _jealous_ , pathetic, liar,” Pepper continued. “He just wants to embarrass you. No one thinks you’re a whore.”

“Except for Bucky,” Tony said, smiling tiredly.

Pepper turned, glaring at Bucky.

“Hey,” Bucky complained, wearily. “That was before I knew him, alright? And I said you were _easy_ – not a whore. Get it right.”

Tony scowled down at the Iron Man armor.

“Can you get it up and running again?” Bucky asked, rubbing at his flesh-and-blood shoulder. His face had reddened on one side and his lower lip was starting to swell up. He hadn’t had a soft landing. He shuffled close to Tony and gently nudged him in the shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Tony murmured. He ducked out from under Pepper’s shoulder and knelt down; he turned the suit around.

Rhodey scooped up Tiberius’ abandoned walkie-talkie. He pressed it to his ear. “Hey, Romanoff,” he said. “What are you two up to?”

“I take it Tiberius ran away with his tail between his legs?” Romanoff chuckled. “Figures. That guy is such a _flake_.”

“Agreed. Do me a favor – the next time you see him, beat his ass for me,” Rhodey grumbled. “What happened to you two? You kind of fell off the grid there.”

“We had to complete our mission,” Romanoff said. She swore in Russian as something banged loudly on her side of the line. “Look,” she said. “We’re almost through here.”

“And?” Rhodey said. He grimaced when the lights flickered, once more revealing the writhing mass of test subjects struggling against the glass wall.

“SHIELD did not authorize the rest of you getting out of this alive,” Romanoff said, her voice going soft.

Tony swallowed hard. Was that really true? Had Romanoff and Barton been sent to finish them off?

“Explain,” Rhodey said, flatly. He gestured for Pepper and Bucky to stay still. “What are they planning for us?”

“Initially, they weren’t planning to do anything,” Romanoff muttered. “They wanted us to get in and out – drag Stark Jr. with is if it was possible, but our plans changed when Banner burst through that fucking wall.”

“They think  _ we _ had something to do with it?” Rhodey asked.

“No,” Romanoff said. “They know you weren’t involved, but the Council decided that things were too dangerous to go unchecked. They don’t want anyone walking away to start up a new business somewhere else, and they sure as hell don’t want Howard Stark in charge of any clean-ups. All the files we came to collect are going to be locked up and sealed away until SHIELD can deal with the technological gaps.”

“So you’re coming to kill us?” Rhodey asked. “Just say it, Romanoff. You’re going to kill us.”

“We’re  _ supposed _ to come and kill you,” Barton said, grimly. “But we’re not.”

Tony gave the Arc Reactor a twist and pulled it free. He checked it over, but could find no damage to the connection prongs. He snapped it back into place, hoping that that would be all it needed to reset and jumped back when the suit came back online with a whir. Blue light filled the hallway, chasing away the darkness. Tony gave Rhodey a lopsided grin and pushed himself into the suit, letting out an excited whoop when the HUD came back online.

“So what do you expect us to do here, Romanoff?” Rhodey said, nodding to Tony. “Do you want us to die, or are you going to let us leave?”

“I don’t even know why you’re down here to begin with,” Romanoff growled. “You were only supposed to fuck around on the top floors. You weren’t supposed to see any of this.” 

“We came down here to get Tony’s friend Steve,” Rhodey said. 

“You came down here for  _ Rogers _ ?” Romanoff sounded awed. “Shit – you’re serious.”

“Of course we’re  _ serious _ ,” Rhodey snapped. “Why do you think we ran ran through hallways filled with these goddamned  _ monsters _ ? This wasn’t for shits and giggles.”

“Rhodes,” Romanoff said in a near whisper. “The Council ordered us to kill him.”

“Who?” Rhodey ground out. “Say it. Who do they want dead? Because if you say you’re here to kill Tony, I’m going to find you and end you.”

Romanoff fell silent.

“You still there?” Rhodey grunted.

“They don’t care about Stark,” Romanoff said. She sounded tired. “They want us to kill Steve Rogers.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you spot anything funky : ) I'm working on correcting the ," errors, but I'll have to get to the earlier chapters later because otherwise it'll take an entire day and I won't be able to do much editing then xD  
> Thanks for the awesome comments! I hope everyone enjoys the new chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They reached the Vault, unsure of what they would find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for violence/blood and nudity.

“Look,” Romanoff said with a sigh. “You need to be careful if you’re coming down here.”

“That’s kind of a no-brainer,” Rhodey grunted. “You’re going to shoot us if we show up, right?”

Barton let out a huffed laugh. “Jesus, Rhodes. Let it go.”

“Let it go?” Rhodey sputtered. “I am not a goddamned Disney princess! Fuck off!”

“Shut up, both of you,” Romanoff snapped. Something crinkled over the radio. “Look – I’m going to do you a favor, alright?”

“Why?” Rhodey growled.

“Let’s just say I like Pepper too much to want to see her dead,” Romanoff said, briskly. “Listen up, because I’m not going to have time to repeat this again. The Vault is divided into separate chambers, each one with its own set of blast doors. The outer doors keep the Vault separated from the rest of the building. They lead to a waiting room, where you’ll find an even _thicker_ blast door that acts as a barrier between the waiting room and the first Vault chamber. It’s the final defence between the Vault’s inhabitants and its one and only entrance. Are you reading me?”

“We’re reading you,” Tony said, leaning closer to Rhodey and the radio.

Rhodey scowled. “This could be a load of bullshit.”

“Shh!” Tony said, scowling back at Rhodey. He wasn’t going to ignore the information – even if it could potentially be a load of utter crap. He was desperate to know what they were up against, and if Romanoff wanted to help them, he wasn’t going to talk her out of it.

“We made it through without any problems, but we had a tail,” Romanoff said. She let out a tired sigh. “We’re boxed in here. Hydra’s out in the waiting room, so be careful.”

“Thanks,” Tony said.

“You're welcome, Stark,” Romanoff said.

Rhodey squinted at Tony. “Are you sure you want to listen to this?”

“It’s better than going in blind,” Pepper grunted.

“I say we put it to a vote,” Rhodey said, tucking the radio into his belt. “Who’s for taking Romanoff’s directions?”

Bucky, Pepper and Tony put their hands up.

Rhodey sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “ _Really_?”

“Like the lady said,” Bucky grunted, gesturing to the hallway with his knife. “It’s better than going in blind. We know we’re going to have to head down there, and we already know Hydra’s camped out on their front doorstep. At least this way we know more about the Vault.”

“Fine,” Rhodey said. “But if we die, I’m blaming you.”

 

Tony let the suit’s sensors keep an eye on the creatures behind the glass security door, trusting them more than his own eyes. He didn’t have to wait for the others to follow him; they moved on their own, flanking him with their weapons at the ready. Romanoff had been talking about breaching the Vault a good ten minutes ago now, and if she and Barton were as efficient as everyone seemed to think they were, they might be too late to stop her from getting at Steve.

The hallway was eerily quiet; they could hear every step they took, and they knew that if they could hear their footsteps, everything else could too.

The lights above them flickered, sending them into darkness ever three minutes like clockwork.

They approached the Vault cautiously, keenly aware that they were in the most dangerous place in the building.

They reached the Vault’s exterior doors and huddled against the wall, trying to keep out of sight as they peered in through the decorative glass windows surrounding the door. The waiting room chamber was occupied, but not by Romanoff and Barton. There were Hydra agents spread out in front of the inner Vault doors; each one was armed as though they were expecting to _personally_ take out a small village. It was worse than they had thought. Tony doubted that they could even _sneeze_ in there without ending up dead.

Bucky cleared his throat. “I think this is where I come in,” he said.

Tony grabbed Bucky by the arm. “They’re going to _murder_ you. You do get that, right?”

“Oh, I get it. I’m one of them, _remember_?” Bucky said. He tucked his knife away and straightened up. He turned to Tony, his expression turning dead once more and straightened up. He became the Winter Soldier easily, as if he was simply putting a coat on. He sauntered away from them, his footsteps heavy, moving with purpose.

“I don’t like it,” Pepper muttered as she watched Bucky go. “We can’t help him in there. If they turn on him, he’s fucked.”

“He’s fucked if he stays with us too, remember?” Rhodey grumbled.

“Yeah,” Pepper said, “But at least then he’d be with _us_.”

“Funny,” Rhodey said. “I didn’t know you cared so much about him.”

“I don’t,” Pepper grunted. “I just don’t like it when Tony cries.”

Tony watched Bucky through the glass door. His muscles were tense all over, and even the suit held no comfort for him. It looked like Bucky had stepped into a box filled with glowing _eyes_ ; it was a miracle they hadn’t been spotted yet with so many flashlights floating around.

The Hydra agents standing closer to the door stiffened and turned towards Bucky, watching him suspiciously, their weapons held at the ready. They seemed uneasy now that he was nearby. Maybe they were scared of him.

The overhead lights turned on briefly, giving Tony a good look at Bucky as he approached the first Hydra goon right before they shut off again. He couldn’t hear a word Bucky or the Hydra agent said, but judging by the fact that everyone was still standing when the conversation was finished, Bucky had been convincing. The Hydra agents that had been standing at attention dropped their act and went back to milling around again, returning to the conversations they had so quickly dropped.

Bucky approached a tall man wearing a bucket-shaped, yellow, helmet and saluted him. The man gave Bucky a glare in return, but didn’t attack him.

 

“Romanoff,” Rhodey muttered into the radio. “Where are you?”

“We’re trapped in Vault,” Romanoff whispered. “We can’t get the fucking door open. Someone must have hit the manual overrides and locked us in.”

Tony scowled. There was only one person down here who would know exactly where the overrides were located. “Fucking Howard,” he said. “I bet you fifty bucks he’s in there with them trying to sabotage everything.”

“Do you really think he’d screw himself over like that?” Pepper whispered. “If they catch him, he’s as good as dead.”

“How exactly is locking _them_ in going to cause Howard trouble?” Tony asked. “He’s probably safer in there than we are out here. He knows where everything is.”

“We don’t even know that he _is_ in there,” Pepper retorted.

“So let’s ask,” Rhodey muttered. He tapped his comm. “Hey, Romanoff? Do you happen to have seen Howard Stark in there?”

“Howard?” Romanoff whispered. “We didn’t bring Howard with – oh, _fuck_.”

“Is he in there or not?” Rhodey asked.

“He’s here alright,” Barton hissed. “But we can’t reach him.”

“Why the hell would he go in there?” Rhodey groaned. “Isn’t the Vault supposed to be sealed off from damn near everything? That’s where they put all their bad shit – Is he suicidal? There’s no getting out of there!”

“Technically speaking, he’s not in the actual _Vault_ yet,” Barton said.

“There’s an observation room across from it,” Romanoff sighed. She swore in Russian under her breath. “It’s where all the controls are.”

“How do you know all of this?” Rhodey asked, bewildered. “Did they had out a file while I wasn’t around or something?”

“Of course there’s a file. SHIELD has been watching SI for _years_ , Rhodes. Stark’s monsters are dangerous – too dangerous to be left unmonitored. Fury wanted to know where everything was in case they ever had to come down here,” Romanoff drawled. “As usual, he called it right.”

“Oh goodie. Howard has now barricaded the door and locked it up tight,” Barton said.

“Great,” Tony grumbled. “So he’s in complete control and we’re trapped with a bunch of Hydra agents in between us.”

“How much damage do you think he can do from in there?” Pepper asked, turning to Tony. “Do you think he can control the power?”

“I don’t know, Pep,” Tony said. He skimmed through the data Jarvis had stolen, hoping to find something of value, but it was no use. There was no way to tell how much power Howard had access to until he actually did something. The schematics Tony had access to were as useless now as they had been before. He could begrudgingly understand why Howard had hidden every scrap of valuable knowledge away like an agitated squirrel; he wasn’t so sure he would have written anything down either if he had had Obadiah Stane as his business partner, and Nick Fury as his security liaison. Tony had no idea how Fury had gotten the plans for the lower levels, but someone had obviously spilled the beans. If they were lucky, Fury, and _only_ Fury, had those details, and if they were _supremely_ lucky, Stane might not have bothered stopping by for a visit.

“Guys?” Barton’s voice had turned shrill.

“What’s wrong?” Rhodey asked tersely.

“Howard’s – he’s opening the fucking _Vault_ ,” Barton whispered.

Tony held his breath. He couldn’t physically feel the way the atmosphere was changing around them, but his sensors were picking it up, and he didn’t like the way the readings were bouncing around. The temperature in the lower floor began dropping rapidly. The electromagnetic waves the Vault was emitting began to spike; the lights began to sputter, blinking on and off at dizzying intervals.

Pepper curled closer to the wall, wrapping her arms around her middle; she dropped her rifle with a clatter.

A shudder ran through Rhodey; he moved back, huddling closer to Pepper. Tony could see their breath in the air.

“Romanoff? What’s going on?” Rhodey whispered into the radio.

The Hydra agents gathered in the waiting room shuffled backwards muttering amongst themselves; they staggered away, terrified, when they noticed that the Vault was starting to vent gases without the security alarms being triggered.

Bucky was the only one who didn’t lunge over the shipping crates stacked around them in order to get to the very back of the room. He stood stock-still, watching the door as it went through its decontamination procedures, his eyes wide and glassy.

“ _Romanoff_ ,” Rhodey hissed into the radio. “Are you there?”

“I’m here,” Romanoff said, her voice barely above a whisper. “The damn door is opening – shut up and keep radio silence.”

Rhodey sighed and leaned back against the wall, slipping the radio back into his pocket.

The suit’s cameras recorded everything.

The Vault seemed ready to explode; the metal doors bulged forwards as pressure built up. When the door finally popped open amidst hissing steam and flashing lights, nothing but a faint spray of water sloshed out; Tony was relieved that there wasn’t any blood or bodies washing out with it. Romanoff and Barton were still alive.

Howard Stark’s voice filled the room. “I’m letting him out,” he said, flatly. “If I were you, I would get the hell out of his way.”

The Hydra agents began to fidget, glancing at their leaders for direction. Their leaders, in turn, looked to Bucky, unsure of what to do next.

Bucky grimaced and glared at the group of Hydra agents behind him. He turned back at the Vault as the door opened wider and strode forwards, motioning with his cybernetic hand for the others to keep back. He almost made it to the door before he was knocked backwards by an unseen, but powerful blast; he flew through the air and landed with a meaty thud.

The Hydra agents scattered; they ran towards the hallway, not even bothering to raise their weapons. Their squad leader yelled loudly for them to come back, but they didn’t even slow down enough to listen. They had no intention of sticking around.

Tony, Rhodey and Pepper hugged the wall and got ready for a fight.

 

The fight never came.

 

Sound seemed to vanish.

Tony peered through the door into the waiting room. Every last Hydra agent, aside from Bucky, was floating in the air as though suspended in some kind of invisible gel; they were frozen in whatever position they had been in when they had been caught and hovered precariously, with only the movement of their eyes showing that they were, in fact, still alive.

Steve stood leaning against the Vault’s doorway with what looked like the famous-but-never-seen Vibranium shield pressed up against his bare leg. His hair pale gold and so long, it was dragging on the floor around his feet in tangled curls. He was bone-thin and naked, his skin paper-white, marked with bruises and grease. There were thick purple bruises curled around his shoulders, hips, torso and thighs from where he had been strapped down. His eyes had a sunken-in quality to them and he kept blinking as though he might pass out at any given moment.

Steve gazed at the Hydra agents and let out a long, suffering, sigh.

With a glint of metal in the flickering lights, the shield moved through the air. By the time Tony had finished taking in his next breath, it was done. The captured Hydra agents fell to the floor in pieces, sliced apart by the shield’s sharp edges. Their deaths were quick, at least; none of them had the time to suffer before they were simply _gone_.

Tony strained to see through the spray of blood that filled the air. The suit’s sensors pinged as Pepper’s hand dropped onto his shoulder. She tried to pull him back to safety, but he ignored her, digging in his heels; he needed to know what had happened – who had died and who had lived. He allowed himself to be pulled back only when he saw that Bucky wasn’t part of the carnage. He wondered, swallowing down a mouthful of sour bile, how long it would be before Bucky became just another casualty if they waited in the hallway. Would there be time to talk Steve down? Or would he simply react like he had just moments before if anyone tried to approach him?

“Tony – we need to get the hell out of here,” Pepper hissed through gritted teeth. “Tony?”

Tony buried away his revulsion and fear; there would be time to scream later, if he survived – lots, and lots of time. He couldn’t leave without at least _trying_ to talk to Steve. He owed Steve that. They had gone through so much; he refused to turn around and run now. He stood up, flipped up the faceplate and stepped through the doorway, keenly aware of the mess beneath his feet. He could tell Pepper and Rhodey didn’t know what to do by the way they were still pressed up against the walls, watching him with wide, horrified eyes. He couldn’t blame them for staying back; if he hadn’t met Steve so many times before, he might not have risked walking into a room with the guy either.

Steve turned slowly, his movements stiff and juddering. He frowned at Tony, but didn’t speak.

“Steve?” Tony called out. He stepped over a pile of dismembered limbs and cringed when he accidentally stepped on what had once been someone’s thumb. He gagged and put his gauntleted hand over his mouth, praying his stomach would keep calm long enough for him to speak.

Steve’s frown deepened. “ _Howard_?”

Tony halted in mid-step, nearly tipping over as the suit’s weight recalculated and adjusted for the new position. “No,” he said, shaking his head as thought that might reinforce his words. “I’m not Howard – I’m Tony, remember?”

Steve glanced around the room and let his gaze settle on Tony again; the shield soared through the air and returned to him, landing on its side at his feet. He staggered further into the room, shoving the bodies he came close to out of his way with his mind, making himself a path through the room towards Tony. He leaned on the shield and rolled it as he walked, using it as a crutch.

“I _told_ you I didn’t want to go in there,” Steve growled. His eyes narrowed into slits. “I told you I was going to find Bucky. Why couldn’t you just let me go look for him?”

“I’m not _Howard_ ,” Tony insisted. He pulled the helmet off and swore under his breath when the lights continued to flicker above him. It was hard to tell him apart from his father on a _good day_ , but in the dark, it would be damn near impossible. “Steve,” he said, praying that his voice would prove who he was, “Steve, you _know_ me. We met in the hallway, remember? You came and visited me while I was at work. You showed me your pillow – I tried to share food with you, but you kept disappearing on me.”

“Don’t _lie_ to me,” Steve snarled, stepping closer. He slipped in blood and without thinking, Tony dove forwards and scooped him up.

Steve’s cheek bumped awkwardly against Tony’s chestplate. He looked up, seemingly startled from his fury by the sudden contact; the red, white, and blue shield rolled away and hit the floor, landing face down in a puddle of blood, the white start turning crimson.

“Are you ok?” Tony asked. Steve was more powerful and dangerous than damn near everything, but he still looked like he could break like porcelain. Tony didn’t even want to _think_ about what might have happened if Steve _had_ actually hit the cement.

“You’re not Howard,” Steve said, softly.

“No,” Tony murmured. “I’m not.”

Steve didn’t struggle against Tony’s grasp; instead, he dug his fingers feebly into the suit plating on Tony’s shoulder and tugged Tony down so he could get a better look at him. His expression changed from utter rage to complete confusion. “Who _are_ you?” he asked, finally, his voice cracking.

“I’m Tony,” Tony said, lamely. He took in a sharp breath through his nose. This was the real Steve – not a hallucination or projection, or whatever it was that Steve had done to survive the horrors of the Vault; it hadn’t been Steve he had been talking to after all – not really. Steve didn’t know him. Steve didn’t know him at all. He wanted to cry; he held his sobs in, focusing on the ache in his chest.

“Who are you?” Steve repeated.

“I’m Tony Stark – Howard’s my father,” Tony said, softly.

Steve let out a soft hum. “You’re Howard’s son?”

“Sadly, yes,” Tony sighed.

“I never thought he wanted kids,” Steve mused. “He used to get real angry when he talked to the little ones in the serum trials.”

“Oh, he didn’t _want_ kids,” Tony chuckled darkly, “But _someone_ had to keep his legacy going, so he was forced to get married and have one.”

“Is he still married?” Steve asked, leaning heavily against Tony. His knees bent awkwardly as he struggled to stay upright. The sight of them made Tony want to weep even more.

“He’s happily divorced,” Tony said.

“Ah,” Steve said, nodding knowingly.

“Yeah,” Tony snorted. “He’s always been a real _peach_.” He looped an arm under Steve’s lower thighs and lifted him up until Steve was perched against the suit’s hip.

Steve winced.

“Sorry – I probably should have warned you I was going to do that first, huh,” Tony said, smiling sheepishly.

“It’s not that,” Steve mumbled. He rested his head on Tony’s shoulder as though it was too much work to lift it. “It was just cold – that’s all.”

Tony blinked slowly. “Ah – right, right. Bare genitals and metal don’t mix. Got it,” he said. He turned in a slow circle, trying not to look at the bodies lying around them; he pretended that he was walking through a meadow on a warm summer day and then promptly pushed the thought away when he nearly tripped on a severed leg. “Ok, so don’t panic – but I’ve have two friends waiting for me in the hallway,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Are they armed?” Steve said. The shield levitated up off of the ground and slid through the air towards them; it hovered beside Tony’s shoulder and clinked against the suit.

“They’re armed, yes, but they’re on _our_ side,” Tony said, trying to make his voice sound as soothing as possible. He didn’t have a lot of experience with being _soothing_ in general, but he assumed he had done a good enough job because the shield didn’t head over to decapitate anyone. He was grateful for that; he knew he couldn’t exactly tell Pepper or Rhodey to put their guns down, not with so many test subjects lurking in the corridors, but he was fairly certain they didn’t look like a threat, at least not at the moment. “Hey, guys? Come on in,” he called out, motioning with the hand holding his helmet, hoping he could draw their attention without spooking them.

Pepper poked her head cautiously through the doorway. She tensed when she got a better look at what was left of the Hydra agents, but relaxed _slightly_ when she saw that Steve hadn’t disembowelled _Tony_. “Where’s Barnes?” she asked.

Tony turned again, mindful of Steve’s added weight, scanning the room. He spotted Bucky’s heavy boot poking out from behind a pile of metal containers stacked on a forklift. “He’s over there,” he said. He stepped more cautiously than before, avoiding most of the mess on the floor and made his way over to where Bucky lay prone.

Steve’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh god! Did I hurt him?”

“I don’t know, honey,” Tony murmured. He set Steve down gently on a patch of cement that was blood-free and knelt beside Bucky. He tugged the helmet back on. A quick scan with the suit’s sensors told him that there was nothing to be worried about; Bucky was unconscious, but he hadn’t sustained any injuries. He had probably blacked out on impact, and thankfully, he didn’t appear to have any bumps on his head. He would probably bruise up later on, but that was peanuts compared to what it could have been.

Tony gently reached out and patted Bucky’s cheek. “Hey – wake up, sunshine.”

Bucky groaned.

“We’ve got Steve,” Tony said, giving Bucky another firm pat. “Get up.”

Bucky cracked open a bloodshot eye and groaned louder. “What’s going on?”

“You got thrown through the air,” Tony said, patiently. “You were unconscious – now it’s time to get up because we have to leave.”

“Right,” Bucky grunted. “That explains _everything_. Thank you Stark, for being so goddamned clear.”

Tony gestured to Steve, holding his hands out as if he had just done an elaborate magic trick. “Look! It’s Steve!”

Bucky sat up sluggishly. He wiped his bangs from his eyes and groggily turned his attention to the scrawny, blond standing beside him. He showed no sign of recognition – no _hint_ of ever having known Steve – but he smiled nonetheless.

Tony could tell how much that hurt Steve. He could see the way Steve’s shoulders drooped, the way he seemed to curl in on himself when he came to finally understand that his best friend might not be his friend anymore.

Tony put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and cleared his throat. “Bucky was captured by Hydra,” he said, knowing that while nothing he said could take away the pain, he could at least explain it. “We’re pretty sure they wiped his memory and did some kind of conditioning and brainwashing to him, but he’s alright now – well, sort of.”

Bucky sighed and slid his legs under him up as if to stand. He paused, looking nervous, and then stared determinedly at the floor near Steve’s bare foot. “Look,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s get this straight. I don’t know you. You’re just my mission.”

Tony kicked Bucky in the boot.

“ _Were_ ,” Bucky muttered. “You _were_ my mission.” He ran his fingers through his greasy hair. “Fuck, I don’t know. Can we get out of here? I don’t – I feel _itchy_ all over. They’re going to want me back now that they know I’m still alive."

“Well, too bad for them. You’re stuck with us,” Tony grunted. He nudged Bucky’s boot with the toe of his jet boot. “You don’t _need_ to go back to them. You can do whatever you want now.”

“Whatever I want?” Bucky looked startled. “Really?”

“Really,” Tony said. He held out a hand and offered it to Bucky. “You can do whatever you want – go wherever you want.”

Bucky took Tony’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled upright. He glanced over at Steve, who was now actively trying to blend in with one of the metal containers on the forklift and held out his hand. “I think my name is Bucky,” he said. He tried to smile, but his face didn’t quite seem capable of making the smile look genuine – instead, he looked like he was trying to bare his teeth.

Steve’s expression turned mournful. He looked down at Bucky’s hand and then turned away. “I want to go home,” he said to Tony.

Bucky hunched his shoulders and looked away, stung by the dismissal.

“Ok, sweetheart,” Tony said. He held out his hand to Steve. “Let’s leave.”

Steve grasped Tony’s hand and allowed himself to be lifted up onto Tony’s hip again. He shivered in the cold air and tucked his nose into the crook of Tony’s neck, burrowing for warmth even though there wasn’t much to be had with Tony’s helmet back on. He seemed lost, as though unsure of what he was allowed to do.

“You’re _real_ , right?” Steve asked, as Tony carried him over to Pepper and Rhodey. Bucky dogged their heels.

Tony frowned. “Of course I’m real,” he said. He put the faceplate up and flashed Steve a grin. “See?”

“It’s just,” Steve murmured, closing his eyes, “I get these visions all the time – dreams, maybe. I don’t know what to call them. They make it hard to tell what’s real and what’s not.”

“Visions?” Pepper asked. She wandered over to the Vault and peered through the open door; she jumped back, lifting up her rifle.

Barton and Romanoff slunk into the room like children who had been caught stealing cookies, their hands held up in front of them, their weapons out of sight.

“This is us surrendering – in case you were wondering,” Barton said.

“Good,” Rhodey said, gruffly, his rifle pointed directly at Romanoff’s head. “I’m glad you decided to give up, because I _really_ didn’t want to have to kill your stupid ass.”

Barton cracked a smile. “It’s not _us_ you’re going to have to worry about,” he said, nodding towards the Vault.

Pepper scowled. “Howard’s still in there?”

“He’s _hiding_ ,” Romanoff said. “And he didn’t look happy when we saw him last.”

“Fuck him,” Tony snorted. “He can live in that goddamned observation room for the rest of his fucking life for all I care.”

Steve stiffened against Tony’s shoulder.

“It’s fine,” Tony said, his voice calm. He rested his gauntleted hand on the small of Steve’s back. It was almost minus one down here, and the suit’s sensors made it clear just how cold Steve was; he didn’t even have to see the Goosebumps on Steve’s pale skin to know it, either. They really needed to find something for Steve to wear and fast. Tony glanced over at Romanoff and Barton; neither of them had any clothing they could spare, unless they wanted to strip out of their combat armor, and he had a feeling that suggesting that wouldn’t go over so well.

“Did anyone see anything warm lying around?” Tony asked. “There have to be some lab coats around here somewhere.”

Romanoff nodded curtly. “There’s a break room to the left of the door,” she said. “I saw a few coats hanging in there. The scientists packed up in a hurry, and they left a lot of their things behind when they tried to escape. There should be something good waiting there.”

“Alright,” Tony said. He swung around slowly towards the door and was pleased to see that Bucky and Pepper were already preparing to leave. Rhodey, on the other hand, refused to move and had his rifle still trained on Romanoff’s head.

“You can trust us,” Romanoff said, lowering her hands.

Rhodey snorted. “ _Sure_ ,” he said. “I’ve heard all about you, _Black Widow_. You sure _sound_ trustworthy.”

Romanoff cocked a delicate eyebrow.

“Oh yeah,” Rhodey said. “I know your code name. A friend of a friend let me in on your dirty little secret. Let’s just say I was hoping you wouldn’t stab us in the back, but I wasn’t exactly surprised.”

Romanoff smiled thinly. “We’re in just as much shit as you are, Rhodes,” she said, nodding to Barton. “Hawkeye and I are under contract. If we leave without completing our mission today, we’re as good as dead.”

“That doesn’t reassure me in the least,” Pepper growled, from the doorway. She followed Bucky out and waved for them to follow her once the coast was clear.

Tony kept an eye on Romanoff, but moved along beside her, knowing that Rhodey was watching their backs. He had no idea what the codename _Black Widow_ meant or why it had startled Romanoff to hear it, but he had a feeling it didn’t get thrown around a lot; if he had to guess, Romanoff was something like SHIELD’s version of the Winter Soldier and while that didn’t make him feel any safer, it made him pretty sure that if she was on their side, they were in good hands.

The room Bucky led them into was pleasantly free of gore and test subjects; there were patched brown couches pressed up against the walls and an aged espresso machine on a rickety table near a set of lockers. The rest of the wall space was taken up by filing cabinets and safety-first posters. The room was well used, and the most comfortable feeling place they had been.

Tony chuckled at a poster that warned them of the dangers of not washing your hands after going to the bathroom and set Steve down on the couch so he could find a decent set of clothing for the guy.

Steve huddled against the couch cushions, shivering uncontrollably.

Tony was worried about that. Was Steve _supposed_ to be shaking so badly? Was it a side effect of the serum? Was it from being in the Vault for so long? Or was he just cold? They had no idea what they were dealing with here; there was no manual for this, no carefully worded notebook to follow, even with all of the information in Howard’s private database at his fingertips. If he had to guess, and that was pretty much his only option, SI had been pumping Steve full of drugs to keep him knocked out. Maybe that was it. Maybe the drugs were slowly wearing off; it stood to reason that they had been intravenously feeding Steve, too. He hoped Steve wasn’t starving, but he knew that there was nothing he could offer. Anything solid would likely cause Steve trouble, and they didn’t exactly have the time to find a packet of instant soup somewhere.

“What?” Steve asked, peering out from under his tangled bangs.

“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking, that’s all,” Tony said. He pulled open a locker and grinned widely. There, nestled amidst a pile of yellow newspapers and candy wrappers was a clean set of maroon coloured scrubs. Everything was a bit big for Steve, but it would have to do. He pulled the pile out and tossed it to Bucky so he could continue to go through the rest of the lockers, not wanting to squander the opportunity to search in peace. There was always the chance that they could find something a little bit smaller, and he knew Steve’s boney body would appreciate the small comfort of something soft.

Bucky trudged forwards as if heading to for a guillotine and handed Steve the pile.

Steve looked up at him with sad eyes. “Thanks,” he said, taking the scrubs. He looked them over and tugged on the shirt and pants; they were both miles too big, but he seemed happy with them regardless. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers and whistled softly. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a shirt like this,” he murmured.

Bucky hovered awkwardly at Steve’s side. He looked over his shoulder at Tony, as though willing him to step in and carry the conversation for him; when no one came to his rescue, he shuffled aimlessly beside the couch and stared over at the _Wash Your Hands_ poster as though it was something he had never seen before.

Tony opened up a new locker. There was no clothing in this one, but there was a pair of boots underneath a pile of newspapers. “Hey,” he called out. “What size shoes do you think you need?”

Steve looked down at his bare feet. “I don’t know. They didn’t like giving me shoes,” he said. He smiled weakly. “I think the last pair they gave me was a size seven.”

Tony checked the tag. The boots were a size nine, but Tony didn’t think that mattered too much; it was better to have them to then to have nothing at all. There was a pair of socks stuffed into the toe of the boots, and they looked brand-new. He held them out to Bucky, trusting him to distribute the loot and went on to the next locker.

“Can we hurry it up?” Pepper growled anxiously from her position at the door. She watched the hallway outside with trepidation, her eyes darting left and right in slow lines. “I haven’t seen any of those _things_ in a while and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like it,” she said.

“Same,” Rhodey said. He kept Romanoff and Barton pinned under his gaze, but let his rifle hang by his side.

“You know,” Romanoff said, quietly. “We can help too.”

“How?” Rhodey snorted. “By shooting us in the back?”

“By guarding the door,” Barton grumbled. He pulled a pistol from the back of his pants and checked it over. No one had even known that he was carrying it; they hadn’t bothered to check him over, either.

Bucky handed the boots off to Steve and then backed away, returning to Tony and the lockers as though bungee-corded to them.

“Do they fit?” Tony asked, yanking the door off of a locked locker. The clothing he found inside was smaller – _much_ smaller. He picked up a pair of yoga pants and a small, purple, hooded sweatshirt. They looked about the right size for Steve. He handed his find off to Bucky, who reluctantly returned to Steve, holding the clothing out.

Steve pulled the socks on with a grin and then tackled the boots. He stuffed his feet into them and laced them up slowly; his fingers weren’t exactly happy about being used that way considering they hadn’t been used much at all over the years, but they seemed to be willing to work, albeit slowly. “They’re the right size,” he said, marveling at the boots. He pulled his feet back out. “Jeeze, I didn’t think I’d grown so much.”

“I’m not surprised,” Tony said, tactfully not watching while Steve struggled out of the larger clothes and tugged on the smaller ones. “Layer up,” he said, motioning to the pile of clothing now sitting on the cushion by Steve’s hip. “I’m thinking you’re going to need it.”

Steve picked up the overly large scrub shirt and pulled it over his head; he tugged the hood out from under the shirt. “I guess you’re right,” he said. He pulled the baggy sweat pants over top of the yoga pants and tied the string tightly around his middle. “I think this is the first time I’ve been warm in _years_.”

Tony’s heart clenched unpleasantly at the news. “They kept you cold all the time?” he asked, stalking over to the couch.

“Howard knew how much I hated it – I guess he must have told somebody about that, because every room I was kept in was freezing. The cold makes everything feel foggy,” Steve explained. “I don’t know why, but it makes it harder to think – harder to control my powers.” He slipped the boots back on and knotted the laces. He gave his feet an experimental tap on the floor and smiled up at Tony. “Thank you,” he said.

“Not a problem,” Tony said, smiling back.

Steve reached out and grabbed Tony’s hand. “No,” he said. “I mean it. Thank you. I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there alive.”

“Well, we still haven’t,” Rhodey grunted. “Let’s get going.”

Tony chuckled and held out a hand to Steve. “Do you want me to carry you again, or do you want to try and walk?”

“He doesn’t get a choice,” Pepper said, cutting in before Steve could decide. “Pick him up and let’s get moving.”

Steve’s laugh was startlingly sweet. He reached out and took Tony’s hand, standing on shaky legs. “That’s fine with me. Let’s go.”

 

 

They made it back to the freight elevator without trouble and found it in lockdown. Tony swore; with Steve in his arms, he couldn’t exactly punch the wall, so instead he glared viciously at it, willing it to suffer. It didn’t help, but it did make him feel even marginally better.

Bucky eyed the control panel with contempt. “I’m betting _Howard_ did that,” he said.

“Who else?” Tony grunted.

“Why the fuck did he let Steve out and then lock everything up?” Pepper asked in exasperation.

Tony’s phone rang in Pepper’s pocket.

“Oh look,” Tony drawled. “The devil wants to explain himself.”

Pepper put the phone to her ear. “Yes?” she said, serenely. “No, sir. You’re going to talk to me, or you’re going to talk to static.” She continued to smile as Howard screamed at her; the words were almost meaningless, more mindless rage than anything, but she wasn’t backing down. After a good five minutes, Pepper cleared her throat and cut in. “Sir, you will unlock the elevator, or we are coming back there to put a bullet in your head. Do you _understand_ me?”

The phone call ended.

“Seriously?” Tony said, gaping at Pepper. “Did you just threaten to _kill_ him?”

“Why yes,” Pepper said, tucking the phone into her pocket. “I think I did.”

“ _Jesus_ , Pep,” Rhodey said, his eyes still on the hallway behind them. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“You’re telling me you haven’t wanted to say that to his face for _years_?” Pepper asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Rhodey chuckled. “Ok, fair enough,” he said. “I’m pretty sure every one of us has wanted to kill Howard Stark at some point in time.” He nodded to Steve, who was curled against Tony’s chestplate, lightly dozing. “I’m betting he wants to get a few hits in too.”

Bucky sighed and scratched at the side of his neck. “So what do we do now? There’s only the one way out.”

“Unless we blow a hole in the floor,” Tony said.

Bucky flashed Tony a brilliant smile. “That’s a nice thought.”

“Do you think you could manage it without collapsing the entire building?” Romanoff asked. She glanced up at the ceiling above her. “Or better yet – without calling every damn creature in the building to our location?”

“I don’t know,” Tony sighed. He shifted Steve against his hip, moving him so he wouldn’t accidentally get tangled up in his bag. Steve’s hair was more than a little unruly. Pepper had tried to tame it with a spare hairband, but so far, it was refusing to stay out of the way.

“We’ve got two options. We do it or Steve does it,” Tony said.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Steve mumbled. He smacked his lips together and lifted his head. “I might accidentally make things worse if I use my powers again. When I was sleeping I could feel those things looking for me,” he said.

“Please be _kidding_ ,” Rhodey groaned.

Barton frowned. “I’m seeing movement down there,” he said, lifting his pistol. “If we’re going to do something, we’d better do it now.”

“Right,” Tony said. He motioned for Bucky to move closer. “Hold him for me, will you?”

Bucky stepped closer; Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky’s neck and clung to him, settling against his belt.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Stark,” Bucky muttered.

Tony lifted his gauntleted hand. If he timed it right and adjusted the beam output, he could cut clean through the floor and leave the upper levels untouched. He hadn’t tried to do anything like this before, but the science was sound; he had made the suit after all. He didn’t fuck up – well, not with something at this stage in development.

“Tony?” Pepper drawled.

Tony scowled. “What?”

“Howard unlocked the elevator.”

Tony lowered his arm and glared at the elevator console. “Son of a _bitch_!”

“See?” Pepper said with a smile. “All it takes is some _finessing_.”

“You threatened to kill him,” Bucky said, handing Steve back to Tony, “how was that _finessing him_?”

Tony adjusted Steve against his hip and chuckled. “I’d have preferred seeing her smack him around, but it’ll do.”

Something shrieked in the distance.

“Inside the elevator – now,” Barton growled.

They gathered together and hit the call button; the door closed in time for them to catch sight of a herd of test subjects, foaming at the mouth and covered in blood, running for the elevator doors. They thudded against the door, denting the metal as they tried their hardest to break through.

The elevator rose slowly.

Romanoff kept her eye on the ceiling above them.

“You think they’re going to get up there before us?” Pepper asked. She checked the clip in her rifle and slapped it back into place.

“Those things are _already_ up there,” Romanoff corrected. “I’m more worried about Hydra and Stone reappearing once the coast is clear. They’re both opportunists – if they think we’re weak, they’ll strike and they will strike _hard_.”

“You think they’re going to be waiting for us?” Rhodey asked.

“I think they’re going to be watching the front door for stragglers,” Romanoff said. “I know that’s what SHIELD’s going to do. We’ll need to be careful from here on out. If they see so much as a flicker of movement, they’ll send in a team.”

“They’ve probably got snipers waiting and watching already,” Barton sighed.

“Great,” Bucky muttered. “So we have to get up to Howard’s floor again, then go all the way down to the front door and _then_ we have to fight our way out past Hydra, SHIELD, Stane and Stone?” He shook his head. “This is starting to sound more and more like a death march.”

 

The elevator doors opened. Three test subjects turned around, flashing their bloody teeth at them. Pepper opened fire, taking them out before they could get closer.

They could hear the sound of scurrying feet in the distance even before they stepped out of the elevator.

Clint scowled. “There are five more bogies coming towards us – and six in the ceiling. Damn it, I miss my bow.”

“We all miss your bow,” Romanoff said. “Work with what you have.”

“We don’t have much,” Pepper muttered. “I’ve only got two more clips, so don’t ask me for spares.”

“Make every bullet count then,” Romanoff said. She ran into the hall, charging at the creatures and kicked one in the face, sending it flying; her gloves glowed a brilliant blue; electricity tore through the air as her fist connected with one of the creatures heads. The test subject went down with a terrified squeal and lay convulsing on the floor with blood dribbling from its mouth; it had bit of half of its tongue.

These test subjects here had more stamina than their predecessors; something had changed in them since Steve’s release from the Vault. They seemed determined to get at Steve and while they were still lunging and striking blindly, at times they seemed intelligent enough to recognize the weapons being used against them and knew how to react accordingly.

Tony was worried. He didn’t like that their enemies might be getting smarter and stronger. Howard had always been deeply involved in weapons design, and if this was one of the things he had been working on – some kind of soldier that learned and grew stronger over time – then he hoped to god that Howard wasn’t as good at his job as he had claimed to be.

They cut a path through the creatures, zigzagging through the floors and labs, taking creatures out with whatever they could find as they traveled. They made it to the elevator that lead up to Howard’s workshop and gathered around the door in a semi-circle, panting and sweaty. With only enough space for one of them to travel up at a time, now came the problem of picking who would go up first.

“Look,” Romanoff said, flatly, “We need eyes up there and we need someone who can be quiet. Send Barton up first.”

Rhodey scowled at Romanoff, unimpressed with her choice. “We _could_ send him up, but where’s the guarantee that he’s going to let _us_ up after? He could trap us down here and lead SHIELD right to us!”

“We don’t have time to argue like children,” Romanoff growled. “In the end there’s only going to be one person down here, and they won’t be able to hold everything off. That person’s odds decrease the longer we stay down here bickering.”

Tony winced. Romanoff was right.

“Alright,” Pepper said, locking eyes with Romanoff. “We’ll send Barton up. We do this fast and we do this efficiently. I don’t want anyone stuck down here any longer than necessary.” She didn’t look happy about the decision, but the stern look on her face made it clear she was going to make it no matter what.

Barton clambered into the elevator without a word, saluted them and closed the door.

The elevator went up.

“How long do you think the ride takes?” Romanoff asked Tony.

Tony answered her as he glared down the hallway, hoping against hope that that wasn’t a horde of creatures coming their way. “We’re talking eight floors here and it’s a slow elevator – with no one hitting the call button on another floor, I’d say max, five minutes here to there.”

“Do you think we can hold out that long?” Romanoff asked. Her eyes narrowed as the lights flickered and went out.

“I don’t know,” Tony said. “You’re the expert murderess. You tell me.”

“Let me remind you that those _things_ aren’t the only thing we should be worried about. Yeah, they’re trouble, but so are the bastards up top with all the _guns and ammunition_ ,” Rhodey said. “Either way we’re going to run into trouble.”

“So we send someone up once we’re sure we’re safe,” Romanoff said.

“If we leave too many of our gunners down here, and there’s someone up above, we’re fucked,” Rhodey growled.

“But if we take the weapons up, the person down here is fucked too,” Romanoff sighed. She glared at the elevator; it was the most emotion she had shown since Tony had first met her. “Worse comes to worse, we stuff whoever we can into that elevator and close the doors. If we get stuck, at least we’ll be able to get to the maintenance hatch. I’d rather be stuck in an elevator than ripped apart.”

“Good plan,” Rhodey grunted.

Something squeaked in the distance.

All eyes turned to the hallway. They took aim, but nothing approached through the darkness as they waited patiently for the elevator to return.

The elevator doors opened with a delightful ping.

“Get in, Rhodey,” Pepper said.

“You sure?” Rhodey asked. He shifted in place, looking uncomfortable.

“I think we can handle it,” Pepper snorted. “Now get moving. Barton has good eyes, but he’s not a good tank like you. We need stamina up there. Go on.”

Rhodey stepped into the elevator, frowning the entire time. “I better be seeing you two later,” he warned them.

“Same goes for you too, Rhodey,” Pepper said as the elevator doors shut.

They turned in unison back towards the hallway. Something was crawling across the floor; the sound of claws clicking on cement grew louder until a pale, emaciated skull-like face appeared from around the corner. The test subject didn’t waste any time. It hissed at them and clambered forwards to attack.

Pepper shot it in the head before it could get any closer and then cursed as the sound seemed to echo through the entire floor. “I’m starting to wish they had let us bring silencers. This racket’s going to attract everything with legs.”

Romanoff smiled softly. “I asked about bringing one,” she said. “Fury was adamant about not being caught dead with one.”

“So instead, they’d rather we end up dead _without_ one?” Pepper cocked an eyebrow. “That sounds like a bullshit excuse.”

“It was,” Romanoff chuckled. “Unfortunately, Fury gets told what to do just like the rest of us, and he figured we wouldn’t need them. Mine was confiscated the minute I stepped out of his office. I figured we wouldn’t need it, so I didn’t sneak out another.”

“Right,” Pepper sighed.

“Intel said we wouldn’t need to _rush_ either,” Romanoff said, her gaze still trained on the hallway. “This was supposed to be a quick job – in and out. No stopping unless we had to fight. That’s why they sent us in such a big group. We were supposed to split up and do our job while the rest of you stumbled around in offices.”

“Quick jobs never work out right,” Pepper muttered.

“I know,” Romanoff grunted. She adjusted the weapon on her wrist – her Widow’s Bite – and let out a huffed laugh. “Fucking _bureaucrats_. It doesn’t matter who I’m working for, they always ruin things in the end.”

“We’ve got enemies,” Bucky muttered.

Three creatures slunk around the corner, keeping low to the ground. They growled and hissed at one another and then turned to face the elevator, their heads hanging low. They began licking their lips, their long, thin, pink tongues slick with saliva.

“Ok,” Tony said, hugging Steve a little tighter. “Did anyone notice that? Because I swear they’re giving me the stink-eye.”

“They’re not looking at _you_ ,” Pepper said, lowly. She fired again, taking out two of the creatures as they picked up speed.

Romanoff leapt forwards and took out the last one with a knife, slitting its throat before it could even notice how close she had gotten to it. She rolled backwards, still watching the corridor and wiped the blood from her knife off on her sleeve. “We need to get Steve upstairs,” she said.

“Obviously,” Tony grunted.

Steve yawned into Tony’s shoulder and gave his head a shake, trying to wake himself up. “She’s right,” he said. “They’re following me.”

“And you think they’re going to _stop_ if we get you upstairs first?” Pepper asked.

Tony hit the elevator call button with his palm so hard, he cracked the plastic.

“They’re not going to stop,” Steve said. “I think they’re going to look for a better way up, and if this way is blocked, they’re going to try and find an easier route. That’s what they’re supposed to do.” He scowled. “Or at least that’s what Howard used to say.”

“Ok,” Bucky said, holding his hands up, “I hate to be the _asshole_ here, but how is that a good plan?”

Steve scowled harder.

“Can we really handle these things if they get out in the open?” Bucky continued. “I know _we_ can handle them as long as the ammunition holds out, but what happens if they get out of the building? What happens if the bullets run out?”

“SI has containment crews on staff – and I’m betting the rest of the soldiers wandering around aren’t going to hold out their hands and offer those _things_ cookies,” Pepper said. “We’re going to have to hope for the best. I say we do it. Rogers goes up next.”

The elevator arrived; the doors slide open.

Tony set Steve down in the elevator. “Just hold onto the wall, ok?” he said. He couldn’t help gnawing on his lower lip; the thought of Steve heading up into the hands of their enemies scared him. He hoped to god Rhodey and Barton were waiting for them.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I know how to _stand_ , Tony.”

“Sorry,” Tony murmured.

Something scrabbled across the floor in the dark towards them.

“Good luck, Steve,” Tony said, heaving a sigh.

Steve froze. “Tony?”

The elevator doors began to close.

“ _Tony_!” Steve yelped. He clung to the elevator door and shoved it open. “What the hell are you guys going to do?”

“We’ll be fine,” Tony said, trying to push Steve back into the elevator. “Just head up. We’ll be right behind you.”

“I’m not leaving this building without you,” Steve snapped. The lights above them flickered; the walls creaked ominously.

“And you won’t have to,” Tony said, gently. He pulled Steve’s hands from the door and pushed him into the elevator. “Go. We’ll be up in a bit. If Rhodey and Barton aren’t up there, then hide somewhere safe and we’ll come find you. We’re not going to leave you alone, alright?”

“Fine,” Steve growled, crossing his arms over his chest. “But you guys better not be planning something _stupid_. I barely know you – you can’t die before I figure out whether I like you or not.”

The elevator doors closed.

Bucky smiled. “He seems to like you,” he said.

“I’ll have to take your word for that,” Tony said.

“How many more of those things do you think are still down there?” Pepper asked as one of the creatures streaked across the hallway and disappeared into the dark again.

Romanoff shrugged. “Too many.”

The creatures came running in full force; their shrieks bounced off the walls, making it sound like there were thousands of them.

Tony pulled the faceplate down and started shooting, hitting everything the suit could target; Pepper, Romanoff and Bucky hit everything they fired at.

The elevator returned.

“Go, Pep,” Tony said.

Pepper shook her head. “I’m not leaving you down here.”

“I’ve got Romanoff and Barnes with me,” Tony said. “It’ll be fine. Go!”

Pepper hesitated.

“Look,” Tony said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I need you to keep Steve safe.”

Pepper nodded slowly and backed into the elevator. “Ok. Be careful, Tony.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Tony said, waving for her to go.

The elevator doors closed.

“I’m assuming we’re leaving me for last?” Romanoff asked, quietly. She wiped the blood off of her knife with her sleeve again and set about jumping on another test subject that had ventured too close for comfort.

“Nope,” Tony said. “It’s you, then Barnes, then me,” Tony said. He shot one of the creatures at the end of the hallway with a repulsor blast and split it in half. He kept an eye on the Arc Reactor’s power output; it was dropping, and fast, but he was pretty sure he would make it at last until it was his turn to get into the elevator.

“Are you sure, Stark?” Romanoff asked. She seemed oddly displeased with the arrangement. “I can be the last person. I’m fine with that.”

“You can switch with _me_ if you want,” Bucky snorted. He kicked one of the creatures away and smashed another with his metal fist. “I’m not picky.”

“No thank you,” Romanoff chuckled. “If Stark wants to wait alone as our human sacrifice, I’m not going to stop him.”

“Fine,” Bucky muttered. “When the elevator gets back here, just go. No dawdling.”

“Got it,” Romanoff said.

The elevator arrived; Romanoff backed into it and hit the button without prompting.

The elevator doors closed.

“I can switch spots with you,” Bucky said, softly. The number of creatures attacking them had diminished, but Tony doubted that they had gotten them all; the suit’s sensors could pick up heat signatures in the distance, although they were still faint.

“My armor can handle it,” Tony lied. It was nice that Bucky had felt the need to offer to stay behind; maybe there was some hope for him after all. If he died down here, he knew that Bucky would probably take care of Steve on his behalf. Steve needed Bucky around now more than ever; it would be good for him to have someone around – even if Bucky didn’t remember him.

“I need you to get up there and watch out for the rest of them,” Tony said.

“You don’t trust Romanoff, do you?” Bucky asked. He tensed when a line of creatures began to pace a few feet away from them.

Tony chanced a scan with the suit’s sensors again and swallowed hard. There were at least twenty heat signatures coming towards them now. This wasn’t going to be easy, but he might make it. “It’s not Romanoff I’m worried about,” he grunted. He fired at one of the test subjects as it got too close and sighed when the creature jumped back and scurried away into the darkness, unscathed.

“I’m not going to hand him off to Hydra,” Bucky said, calmly. “If _that’s_ what you’re thinking.”

“That didn’t even cross my mind,” Tony said. He swallowed hard. The number of heat signatures had grown larger, ballooning up to thirty. Steve’s plan wasn’t working; the test subjects shouldn’t have been congregating here – unless, Tony realized with a groan – this was the _only_ way up.

Tony called the elevator. “I’ll be fine, Bucky,” he said. He was glad that Bucky couldn’t see him. He was shaking inside the suit.

“Sure,” Bucky said, glaring at the darkness.

The elevator arrived.

“Go,” Tony said.

Bucky turned and froze. There was blood splattered across the inside of the elevator at shoulder height. “That’s not good,” he said.

“Go,” Tony insisted. “Find out what’s going on and if you have to leave me, do it.”

Bucky hesitated, hovering in the doorway. “I’m not going to leave you.”

“Go!” Tony snapped. He fired off another warning shot when the creatures began to slip closer and shoved Bucky into the elevator with a hand against the flat of his back.

“You better make it back, Stark,” Bucky grunted as the elevator doors closed.

 

 

The hallway was much darker now that Bucky was gone; it was a lot lonelier too. Even with the lights occasionally turning on and off every few minutes, and the suit’s internal lighting illuminating the corridor, it was easy to believe that he might be swallowed up by nothingness. The test subjects weren’t so unnerved; they paced a few feet away, their eyes glowing eerily in the distance as they watched the suit, seemingly fascinated by it. Maybe they just wanted to eat it.

Tony hit the elevator call button as soon as it was safe and waited.

The minutes seemed to creep by.

He fired another shot when one of the larger test subjects, one that looked like it weighed at least two hundred pounds, started to slink towards him, its hands and knees slapping against the floor with a wet squelch.

The creature didn’t stop; it didn’t even seem to _feel_ the repulsor blast.

Tony fired again.

The big test subject went down; the one that had been creeping up behind it staggered and jumped back.

Something in the darkness hissed in displeasure.

Tony scanned the hallway, watching as more test subjects began to drift towards him; he didn’t like his odds anymore. The suit’s power was down to nine percent, and there wasn’t much he could do to recharge – short of getting his hands on another Arc Reactor. He cursed himself _again_ for never having made a spare and waited for the creatures to make their next move as sweat dripped down the side of his face. The suit would protect him from the worst of their attacks – the question was, how long would it last?

The elevator doors sprang open.

He lunged inside and slammed the call button, ignoring the blood pooled on the elevator floor.

The test subjects hissed and bolted, heading straight for him.

Tony fired his repulsors again and again as the elevator doors closed, timing each hit; the repulsors sputtered and died.

The elevator began to rise.

Tony slumped against the wall and opened the faceplate. With the power drained, it was nothing more than a medieval suit of armor – at best. He grinned wildly. Jarvis had managed to finish the last of the database retrieval in time.

 

 

The elevator doors opened with a cheerful _ding_.

Tony stepped out shakily, laughing to himself. He stumbled and tripped on a workbench and went down onto his knees with a pained squawk. He took in a deep breath, and pushed the work bench away, still laughing hysterically.

He had made it.

He was alive – and he had made it in one piece!

He looked up, sure that he would see Steve and the others rolling their eyes at him, and instead found himself staring at the remains of Howard’s precious lab. Everything that hadn’t been bolted to the ground was now lying on its side. The filing cabinets had been knocked over, their files picked through, and half of what was in the cabinets that had housed the elevator had been stomped on or thrown across the room. The glass shield was broken, lying in pieces on the floor. Shell casings mingled with the broken equipment. This didn’t look like it was Steve’s work – this was the work of overzealous _soldiers_.

Tony moved slowly, keenly aware of how unarmed and alone he was. He followed a set of bloody boot prints out into the hallway, ready for a fight, but found nothing but bodies waiting for him; the battle was long since over.

Tony was surprised to find the corpses all in one piece, with Steve up on this floor. He bent down and examined the first body he saw, checking out the uniform. It was impossible to miss the skull and octopus tentacles. The other bodies lining the hallway, however, were from very different factions. Every other body seemed to be from a different group; the only badges he couldn’t find was SI’s. Relieved, but still concerned, he looked over every corpse he found, trying to keep quiet while panicking. Please, he chanted over and over again as he moved between bodies. Please let these not be my friends.

He was in luck; he didn’t recognize a single body he saw.

He moved on.

The main elevator was no longer in lockdown; it was wide open, and the inside walls were splattered with blood, but again, there were no bodies inside. Not trusting the elevator, he retreated and went to the room where he and Bucky had made their way up the first time. He peered down through the hole in the floor. The fire had gone out, and the metal looked cool to the touch – not that he could actually feel it through the suit’s fingertips. He grimaced and let himself slide down the conference room table into his workshop, landing with a muffled thud. The suit’s shock absorbers were dead; he wasn’t so sure his knees were ever going to forgive him for this. Staggering, he made his way over to his workshop’s open door and nearly jumped out of his skin when _Star Spangled Man_ started playing in the distance.

He swallowed hard.

The song continued to play, his phone unanswered.

He peered out into the hallway and saw Pepper lying face down on the floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you spot anything weird! : )


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony didn't know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for violence, gore, blood and swearing.

Tony moved at a crawl, keeping an eye on both Pepper and the open hallway. He was shaking inside the suit again, and it wasn’t just because the internal heating had crapped out. He took in the scene, afraid to approach until his stomach had calmed sufficiently. There were bloody drag marks on the ground that lead away from Pepper; the boot marks here had an unfamiliar tread, and they were large. He kneeled down once he was sure the coast was clear and rolled Pepper over, fearing the worst.

Pepper blinked up at him.

Tony let out a shaky breath. “Pep,” he said, his voice a shrill whisper. “You’re ok!”

Star Spangled Man started playing again. 

“Fucking phone,” Tony hissed. Looking around nervously, sure that he was going to hear someone storming down the hall towards them, he reached into Pepper’s breast pocket and pulled his phone out. The Caller ID read  _ Dickwad _ . He answered the phone with a grimace. “Hello Howard,” he said. He reached down and took Pepper’s hand in his.

“Why aren’t you out of the building yet?” Howard said, his voice gruff.

“Uh, well,” Tony said, glancing down at Pepper, “We’re kind of ran into a few problems up here.”

“I trusted you to get him out of here,” Howard snapped. “ _ Goddamn _ it, Tony. You just fuck  _ everything _ up!”

Tony let out a pained laugh. “Yeah, nice to hear from you too, Howard.” He hung up and tucked the phone into his bag. 

“Pep?” Tony gently lifted Pepper up and propped her against the wall, avoiding a smear of blood. She blinked at him in a way that probably meant she was very unhappy and slide to the left, nearly tipping over. Her fingers curled around his again; she gave him a feeble squeeze. He sighed and propped her up again.

“Alright, alright. I get it. We need to move – you don’t need to keep telling me,” Tony muttered. He looped her arm around his shoulder and scooped her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style. The armor made moving her a little awkward, but he managed it without too much difficulty, even though his bag kept whacking him in the ass with every step he took. He carried Pepper over to one of the empty workshops – one that everyone on Tony’s floor used as storage for their various garbage projects – and wrestled his keycard out from the neck of the suit as Pepper clung to him. The door opened with a sullen swish. He slipped inside and set Pepper down in one of the rolling chairs he found there; it was still wrapped in plastic, and made a horrible squealing noise when she sank into it.

“Ok,” Tony said, checking Pepper over as best he could without the suit’s diagnostic tools. “You  _ look _ fine to me.”

Pepper blinked at him. Her lip curled up in displeasure.

“Right,” Tony said. He wheeled her behind a pile of boxes, getting them both out of sight.

_ Star Spangled Man _ started playing again. 

Heaving a sigh, Tony pulled the phone out of his bag.  _ Dickwad _ was calling again. Howard never had liked it when someone hung up on him; he hated not getting the last word. 

Tony answered the phone if only to get it to stop ringing. “What is it?” he snapped.

“The test subjects have managed to get out through the elevator in my workshop,” Howard said. He was eerily calm, relaying the news as though it was something as bland as the weather.

“Fantastic,” Tony said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Couldn’t the little bastards just stay down in the dark where they belonged?

“Stop _whining_ and start acting,” Howard said. “I am heading out through the emergency exit. I’ll see you when you get home.”

The call ended.

Tony glared down at his phone.

There had been an _emergency exit after all_?

The fucking _bastard_ had known there was an emergency exit and he hadn’t told them?

Tony threw the phone across the room with a howl. It hit the safety glass and landed with a dull thud, but didn’t break; that was Stark Tech for you – it could put up with damn near anything. Tony took in a slow breath through his nose, trying to stay calm when all he wanted to do was walk over and stomp on the phone until it was in tiny, irreparable pieces.

Pepper frowned at him. She reached out and tapped his gauntleted hand.

“Howard says he’ll see us when he’s at home,” Tony said through gritted teeth. “He’s taking the _emergency exit_.”

Pepper’s eyes narrowed.

“I know,” Tony said. “I want to strangle him too, so you’re going to have to get in line.”

Pepper frowned.

“I take it you were hit by Tiberius’ toy again?” Tony asked.

Pepper nodded and then shook her head.

“Same weapon, but someone else?” Tony hummed softly. He drummed his gauntleted fingers on his other arm; each touch _clunked_. The only other person with access to a Sonic Taser was Obadiah Stane, and Tony wasn’t so sure he could see Stane getting his hands dirty in close combat. Could Stane have passed the Taser on to his soldiers? Or was he here in person? With Jarvis out of reach, the only way they would ever find out what had happened was if they made the arduous trek to the security room to check the cameras.

“Do you think it’s wearing off?” Tony sighed. As much as he enjoyed taking a break from gut-twisting terror, he knew that if they spent too long gathering their strength, they might miss out on their chance to strike back. The last thing he wanted to do was lose Steve because he had spent five minutes longer than necessary figuring out what had happened.

“It’s getting better,” Pepper gritted out. “A little.”

“Do you have any idea where the others are?” Tony asked.

Pepper blew a strand of hair out of her face. “When I got up here, Rhodes and Barton were gone.” She shook her head sadly. “I figured they had gone on ahead to scout things out for us, but then I saw the blood everywhere and I knew something had gone wrong. When elevator opened up, I ran for it and dropped down through the hole in the floor. I thought I’d made it out of sight and then that goddamned Taser got me from behind.”

“So you didn’t see who got you?” Tony asked.

“They didn’t roll me over after they took me down. They just dragged me off to the side of the hallway, and did their pillaging,” Pepper growled. “Whoever it was, they’re not going to stop me from ramming my boot up their ass. They took my fucking _rifle_.” Pepper clenched her fists. “That was my _good_ rifle.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Tony said dryly.

“You should be,” Pepper muttered. “I’ve had that rifle in perfect working condition ever since they handed it to me.” She squinted up at him. “You owe me one, Stark.”

“How about I buy you some new _Louboutins_?” Tony said.

Pepper’s eyes lit up. She cleared her throat. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, looking around the room. “I’m not really a _shoe_ person.”

“Lie to me more, _Potts_ ,” Tony snorted. He cracked a smile, relieved that she was well enough to deny her love for shoes; she had sent him pictures of her shoe collection every Christmas for _years_ – they were, as she called them, her favourite drinking buddies.

Pepper grumbled and reluctantly smiled back. “Alright. Fine. You win. I can be bought with shoes – just don’t tell Rhodey. He’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“Sure,” Tony said. “Just do me a favor – don’t tell _him_ about the bribery shoes either, or he’s going to be asking me for a pair of his own and I don’t know if my bank account can handle paying for that many shoes at one time.”

Pepper chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do you have any colour preference?” Tony asked.

“I’ll look on the website later and let you know what I like,” Pepper said. She snapped her fingers. “Tasers, Stark. _Tasers_ – we were talking about Tasers.”

“Right – right. We weren’t talking about shoes at all,” Tony said, nodding along.

“ _Tasers_ ,” Pepper growled. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “We need to get out of here before we start talking shoes for real. Don’t distract me.”

“Alright, alright,” Tony sighed. He drummed his finger on his lower lip as he pondered their situation. “Tiberius said Obie gave him the Sonic Taser,” he mused. “I was wondering if Obie was handing them to anyone else, but I guess I don’t have to ask anymore. They definitely went into production.”

“He had access to a whole factory, so yeah, I’m betting there’s more than one running around out there. But who knows?” Pepper said. She wiggled her fingers and looked down at her legs. “I think I’m good to go now.”

“You sure?” Tony asked.

Pepper nodded. “I’m sure.” She heaved herself forwards in the chair and leaned heavily on her elbows with her face resting in her palms. “I really hate that fucking Taser. What the hell made you design something like _that_?”

“Howard wanted something non-lethal to give to the army,” Tony said with a shrug. “I thought it was funny at the time – and it is, when it’s not in the hands of a jackass.”

“So we have a missing Tiberius Stone, a possible Obadiah Stane sighting and we have no team,” Pepper said. She grimaced. “I don’t like our odds.”

“Agreed,” Tony said. “You’re the first living person I’ve seen since I got out of that damned elevator.”

“I was afraid that was going to happen,” Pepper admitted. She stood up slowly, testing her strength and balanced precariously on her heels with a hand on Tony’s shoulder. She kicked the rolling chair away with a grimace. “This isn’t going to be easy, Tony. We don’t have a lot options right now. With your suit down and its sensors offline, we’re running blind all over again. The building security is still down – so we can’t use that to our advantage – and we’re weaponless.” She shook her head. “I guess we’re going to have to take this fight floor by floor. Maybe we’ll get lucky and run into someone with a gun we can steal.”

“Let’s not leave this to _luck_ ,” Tony said, pursing his lips. “We can check the elevator out – maybe they left us some bloody fingerprints to follow.”

Pepper smirked. “You know, I think you’re finally proving yourself a _genius_ ,” she said patting him on the top of his helmet.

Tony snorted. “Sure. You say that now, but you just watch. I’m going to get myself stuck in a _door_ or tangled in wires or something and then we’re both going to look like dumbasses.”

Pepper laughed as she picked up Tony’s abandoned phone, tucking it into her breast pocket. When she caught sight of Tony’s pout, she smiled and shook her head. “I know you hate his guts, but we might need this,” she said.

“I know,” Tony grumbled. “Just do me a favor – if he calls back, answer it and scream at him for me, ok?”

“Will do,” Pepper said.

 

 

The elevator proved most helpful. Not only were there bloody fingerprints on _several_ buttons, but there were buttons that had been crossed out with spray-paint; the word ‘blocked’ was scrawled above them.

“I don’t think anyone’s been down to the lobby yet,” Pepper said, examining the rest of the buttons. She tapped the metal beside the lobby button, where a big black x had been painted. “I mean, it’s possible that they could have used gloves to wipe the buttons down or something, but I’m betting they didn’t. Why do that when there’s bloody prints on damn near every _other_ button? I’m thinking the bastards that knocked me out are still somewhere else in the building looking for a way down.”

“Let’s check then,” Tony said.

“Sounds like a plan. Security HQ, here we come,” Pepper said.

 

Getting to the Security floor was even more grueling a trip than it had been the first time around; they had to stop and check clear corner before they could move on, and while they saw a lot of blood and smeared footprints, they didn’t run into any trouble. Tony was pretty damned happy about that; Pepper wasn’t. There were no weapons left scattered around for them to find. Someone had been moving things, cleaning up after the soldiers and the firefight; the bodies they stumbled upon were picked clean, devoid of anything useful.

They made their way through the broken-down checkpoints and found that Security HQ had been breached. The equipment was trashed beyond repair – all but one of the monitors had been kicked in, and the only security camera left functional was focused in on the lobby; as it turned out, that was the only feed they needed.

There, on screen, standing in an armored suit that looked _suspiciously_ like Tony’s work, stood Obadiah Stane. He was showboating for both the crowd of armor-wearing men around him and the camera, winking at everyone with a magnanimous smile spread across his face; he looked like a King standing with his jesters. A group of less-armored mercenaries stood beside them, laughing while still keeping watch for danger. Anyone who wasn’t wearing armor was bearing a shotguns, rifle or machine gun, and from the cameras angle, he could see far too many grenades lying around for his liking. Tony didn’t like the look of them.

“ _Tony_ ,” Obadiah drawled, his voice crisp and clear in the feed, “I know you’re up there, Tony.”

Tony scowled at the video feed. The camera moved and repositioned itself in _just_ the right spot so he could see Rhodey, Barton and Romanoff kneeling in front of Stane; someone had to have been moving the camera by hand, because it hadn’t moved smoothly. In the background, just behind Stane, encased in a glass-and-metal containment tube, was Steve.

Steve was slumped against the back wall, his body limp and fragile looking; his shield lay in a crate beside the containment tube, out on display like some stolen trophy. Tony gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Steve must have been heavily sedated because that was the only way Tony could explain why the lobby wasn’t torn apart and littered with body parts.

Stane stepped back into the camera’s view and grinned madly. He gestured for someone off-screen to join him, waving an armored arm; when the person refused to move into frame, Stane’s grin morphed into a venomous scowl.

“Get out here and show Tony your _pretty_ face,” Stane said.

Tiberius stepped out of the shadows, looking battered and bruised. He glared at Stane and tried to keep space between them; Stane was having none of it. He threw an arm around Tiberius’ shoulder and reeled him in so he could give him a rough squeeze, one that obviously hurt. Tiberius winced and shrank away but didn’t run; he didn’t seem to be capable of it, although the wildness to his eyes suggested he wanted to get the hell out of the building.

“I’ve got all your little friends here, Tony,” Stane chuckled in the video feed.

“Not all of them,” Pepper snorted. She tapped the monitor. “I’m not seeing Barnes anywhere. Do you think he escaped? Or did he end up with a bullet in his head?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said. “Obie couldn’t have known that we knew each other. To him, Bucky’s probably just another Hydra grunt here to steal his thunder.”

“I hope you’re right,” Pepper said. “Because if it’s the two of us against,” she paused and counted the armed men and women she could see, tapping at the monitor, “what looks like over _fifty_ armed men – ten of which are in suits of armor just like yours – I’m thinking we’re not going to last very long.”

“And you think a fight between _three_ of us and fifty armed men would end differently?” Tony asked, smiling weakly. Pepper always had been an optimist when it came to firefights; that optimism had never led her wrong, but sometimes Tony worried that it was more blind luck than tactics that gotten her thought her many skirmishes.

“I’m thinking we’d have had half a chance if your suit wasn’t dead,” Pepper grumbled. She reached up and tapped the surface of the Arc Reactor. “That thing is _strong_ when it’s holding a charge. Are you sure there isn’t anything you can do to get her juiced up again?”

Tony hung his head; he felt like kicking something. Why _hadn’t_ he thought far enough ahead to make a spare Arc Reactor? Why had he stopped at only the one? What had he been _thinking_? Well, for starters, he hadn’t thought he would be needing the suit to help him escape a building filled with armored guards, murderous test subjects and _psychopaths_ ; that’s just not what he had been expecting his life to be like. His life hadn’t been _exciting, per say,_ but it had been predictable. He had gotten up every morning, gone to work and if things went badly, he had been able to get out of trouble by batting his eyelashes and giving someone a smarmy smile. He sighed and looked around the room, wondering if there were secret security cameras hidden nearby, capturing their reactions; Stane always had liked seeing people suffer.

“Come out and _talk_ , Tony,” Stane drawled on-screen. He started squeezing Tiberius’ shoulder; Tiberius’ whimpers were quiet, but still audible over the cameras.

“All I want to do is talk,” Stane said. “You’re my golden goose, Tony. We can work something out – start over. Come on! It’ll be fun! Just you and me – like the old days.”

The door to the security room slid open.

Tony and Pepper dove for cover.

 

 

 

Bucky waved his metal hand through the doorway. “It’s just me,” he rasped.

Tony heaved himself upright and sat down in a rolling chair with a groan. “ _Jesus_ – don’t do that!”

Pepper didn’t relax as easily. She kept her gaze trained on Bucky as he sauntered into the room, clearly not completely trusting what she saw.

Bucky had a Stark 195-A Sniper Rifle slung over his shoulder, one that wasn’t even on the market yet, and he was dragging a thick plastic crate the size of a footlocker behind him. He nodded to Pepper, apparently unconcerned by the fact that she looked like she wanted to put a gun to his head, and dropped the box in front of Tony, grinning widely.

“I brought you a present,” Bucky said.

Tony let out a huffed laugh. “That’s what you were doing? Hunting for presents? You jackass! We thought you were _dead_.”

Bucky shrugged. “I though you guys were dead too.”

“And you thought getting Tony a present would bring him back to the land of the living?” Pepper asked.

Bucky scowled. “Fuck off!”

“You’re a real piece of work, Barnes,” Pepper snorted.

“Well I don’t see you fixing anything!” Bucky snapped. “Look – I came here first, figured I’d try and see where everyone was – if you were alive at all – and when I saw them dragging Steve around in that fucking containment pod I decided I’d better go find some better weapons. I was _hoping_ you guys would show up here. I was right. I don’t see how my plan was _bad_. You’re making it sound like I went off to make a fucking sandwich!”

“It wasn’t a bad plan,” Tony said, soothingly. He groaned as he lifted himself out the chair. The armor’s weight was going to make him put out his back eventually; he could already feel it. He bent down and kneeled in front of the box Bucky had brought him, opening the plastic snaps as delicately as possible; if a few of the snaps broke off and rocketed across the room, well, no one mentioned it. There, nestled amidst a piece of precision-cut foam, was an Arc Reactor. Tony’s throat felt like it was closing up; he was torn between being grateful and horribly, _horribly_ depressed by the sight.

“That should fit, right?” Bucky asked, frowning down at Tony, seemingly confused by Tony’s reaction. “It’s the same as the one in your armor, isn’t it? You designed it, right?”

“I didn’t make it. It was Howard’s design – I just shrank it down and made it useable,” Tony said, his mouth going dry.

“So what’s the problem?” Bucky asked.

“Stane told me that if I managed to get the reactor working, it might help keep me around. He was pretty sure the Board was going to throw Howard out on his ass,” Tony snorted. He felt stupid for having swallowed the lie so easily. “I sent Howard the revised designs – just like Obie wanted.” He laughed bitterly. “Well, fuck. I guess Obie’s got better hackers than anyone expected.”

“That, or he had someone watching _you_ ,” Bucky said, nodding to the broken cameras hanging from the ceiling.

“I don’t think so,” Tony muttered. “I killed the cameras in my workshop a long time ago. They don’t work properly – they run on a constant loop. I do bug sweeps at least once a week.”

“And you’ve checked for them recently?” Bucky asked.

Tony froze. “No,” he said, his voice cracking. “No. I haven’t – it was a busy week and I didn’t have the time. I just assumed everything was fine because no one ever seemed to know what I was working on.” He banged his fist on the plastic container, crushing the lid. “Fucking _hell_ – I handed them everything, didn’t I?”

“I doubt it,” Pepper said, nodding to the security screen. “The armor doesn’t look exactly the same as yours – it’s just similar. If we get a better look at it, I think we’d see a big old _Hammer Industries_ stamp on the side.” She chuckled when one of the armored-up minions in the background seemed to get stuck temporarily in compromising position with his ass up in the air. “Oh yeah. That’s Hammer tech,” she said. She patted Tony on the helmet. “If I was you, I’d check that reactor before using it. If Hammer made it, it might explode on you.”

Tony snorted. “Good point. He picked the reactor up and looked it over, scrutinizing every last detail. He was just about to pull it apart and check the wiring when Stane started talking again; grimacing, Tony turned from the reactor to the security monitor.

“Stark? Stop fucking around and get down here so we can work things out,” Stane said. “I know you’re not going to leave your little _traitor_ friends here, so why don’t you come down? _Maybe_ you can talk me out of sending them off to SHIELD in a gift basket.”

Pepper whistled. “Wow. _Someone’s_ full of themselves.”

“That’s Obie for you,” Tony said, turning his attention back to the arc reactor. He pulled his toolkit open and peered inside. He let out a frustrated groan; he wanted to tear out his hair. The magnifying glass he usually kept in with his other tools had mysteriously _vanished_.

“What do you need, Stark?” Bucky asked, noticing Tony’s anxious expression.

“I need a magnifying glass,” Tony said. He stood up slowly, grunting in pain as the suit’s weight nearly knocked him to the ground again, and headed for the nearest desk. The main room had been pillaged, but he had a feeling that no one would have taken the contents of Carl’s desk; that bastard had been reading comics with a magnifying glass for years because he was too fucking cheap to buy himself a pair of reading glasses.

Tony pulled open drawers, sifting through paper, pencils and scraps of elastic. No matter how hard he looked, no matter how deep under the pile he dug, there was no sign of Carl’s magnifying glass.

“I’ll go see if I can find you one,” Bucky said, resting his hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” Tony said, closing the drawer with a little _too_ much force. The drawer clunked pitifully and slid back out; he pushed it in again, glaring at it, willing it to stay put.

“Find me a _gun_ while you’re at it,” Pepper called over her shoulder as she searched through a different desk.

Bucky saluted her and stepped out into the hallway, disappearing so quickly and silently, it was as if he hadn’t even been there to begin with; Tony could see now why the Winter Soldier had seemed more ghost than human.

Pepper balled up a piece of paper and chucked it at the spot where Bucky had last been. “I hate that he’s so _good_ at sneaking around. He’s like a goddamned poltergeist,” she muttered. She dropped down on her knees to look under the desk just in case the magnifying glass had been knocked underneath and let out a long, suffering sigh. “Unless you’re planning on using a piece of old gum to do your work, I think you’re out of luck.”

Tony sighed.

“Where else could one be?” Pepper asked as she stood up. She dusted off her knees and glanced over her shoulder at Tony. “Why don’t you sit down, champ? It’s painful just watching you stagger around like that.”

“I’m fine,” Tony insisted. He rolled his shoulders and lifted his feet one after the other, moving in place if only to keep his joints from locking up. “Seriously, I’m good.”

“Bullshit,” Pepper said. She forced Tony to sit down in the rolling chair again and stood in front of him with her hands on his shoulders to keep him from struggling upright again; it didn’t take much effort on her part to keep him down, and she seemed satisfied by the sight of him sitting.

“I don’t like waiting like this,” Tony grumbled. His shoulders and knees were throbbing, now; if he didn’t swap out the Arc Reactor soon, he was going to be too tired to be of any real use.

“So stop whining and start thinking,” Pepper said. “Where do they keep magnifying glasses in the building?”

“Some of the labs should have them – but it’s not exactly standard issue, you know?” Tony muttered. “Everything has to be requisitioned, and sometimes people just don’t bother with it. Sometimes people brought their own equipment – it’s a crapshoot.”

“Ok,” Pepper said. She put her hands on her hips. “So here’s what we’ll do. I’ll try and hit up one of the labs we cleared and see what happens. Who knows? Maybe Howard left one lying around.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Tony muttered. “There’s no way to know where the test subjects are with the cameras out and I am _not_ sending you up there alone and unarmed just for a fucking magnifying glass.”

“Well you can’t exactly come with me,” Pepper said. “You’re a walking filing cabinet right now.” She flicked Tony’s shoulder; the suit let out a dull clunk.

“I’m fine,” Tony insisted. He struggled to stand up and nearly sent himself tumbling onto the floor.

Pepper smirked and cocked her hip to the side. “Really? _That’s_ you being fine?”

“That was an _accident_ ,” Tony grumbled.

“You’re such a bad liar,” Pepper chuckled. She headed for the door. “I’ll be back in a bit. Keep out of trouble and whatever you do, don’t piss of Stane any more than you already have – at least not until I’m back.” She grabbed onto the doorjamb, smiling to herself, and nearly bumped face first into Bucky’s chest.

Bucky strolled into the room, his expression so grim, it looked like he had gone looking for something much more deadly than a magnifying glass.

Pepper stepped backwards with a startled hiss, her eyes narrowed into slits. “What the hell, Barnes!”

“Here’s your present,” Bucky said. He tossed Pepper a rifle as he passed her. “And it’s your lucky day, Stark. I found a magnifying glass too.” He was more careful with the magnifying glass; he handed it off to Tony and then retreated to the security desk, hopping up so he could sit on its edge so he could watch Tony work.

“How the hell did you find everything so fast?” Pepper asked as she checked over the rifle. “Are you some kind or robot? Or are you part golden retriever?”

Bucky shrugged and gave her a bemused smile. “Getting the rifle was easy. I found it on a soldier a floor down and stashed it in case I needed it. The magnifying glass was a bit trickier. That I found on the floor when I was looking through some of the bodies in the bathroom.”

“I’m assuming the bodies aren’t fresh,” Pepper said. She frowned, disturbed by her own choice of words. “Well, they’re not _fresher_ , I mean.”

“They’re first round corpses from what I could see, yeah,” Bucky said with a stiff, awkward nod. “They rounded up a few security guards – or at least one of the poor fuckers was one. I didn’t stop to check ID or anything – didn’t have the time, but they were all wearing the same gear so they’re all SI employees.” He sighed, looking down at the floor. “Whoever the guy was, he took a few comic books into the bathroom on his break and never came back out,” he said. “That doesn’t seem right, even to me.”

Tony’s throat felt like it was going to close up; he tried desperately to bury his dismay away again. He knew who the security guard had been, even without seeing the body. Carl had been a stickler for regulations, but they had bonded over the years, and they knew each other well; they had the same taste in comics and had gone out for drinks every year on Carl’s husband Daniel’s birthday. Hell, the metal Captain America shield coaster currently sitting in Tony’s bag had been a gift from _them_. Shit – he hadn’t even thought about Daniel.

Tony tried to keep his breathing under control, but it was a losing battle. Did Daniel even know what was going at SI? Carl always worked the night shift, and he should have been heading home by now. There was a whole new set of workers heading in to get things started for the day, people who had no idea what had gone on during the night. Tony hoped Fury, or someone else high up at SI, had had the sense to phone people to tell them to stay the fuck away from the building.

“Why do you look like you’ve shoved a lemon up your ass?” Bucky asked, curious.

“Well, aside from the fact that Carl’s dead,” Tony choked out, taking the magnifying glass delicately between his trembling fingers, “his comic collection is probably covered in blood. He would have hated that.”

“He was that attached to his comics?” Pepper asked. She leaned against the table Tony had commandeered and rested her palm on it. “He sounds like someone I know,” she said, elbowing Tony.

Tony smiled sadly. His eyes began watering; he wiped at them carefully, mindful of the suit’s gauntlets. “He used to call them his children,” he said with a sniff.

“I take it back. That doesn’t sound like you at all. That’s just plain creepy,” Pepper said. She looked over at Bucky, seeming to think he was going to back her up. “I’m not crazy – that’s creepy, right?”

“Oh, it’s creepy alright,” Bucky agreed. “But that’s not what’s bugging you, is it, Tony?”

Tony kept his eyes on the Arc Reactor. He felt awful for feeling relieved that Carl’s suffering was over; a part of him was begging, screaming in the back of his mind, for him to stop and properly mourn all of the people he had known and now lost at SI. These people had been his friends. He had known them for the best years of his life – and even if he hadn’t liked _all_ of them, he wouldn’t have wished something like this on them. They had been good people – decent people, for the most part. Well, the ones who had worked aboveground had been good people; he wasn’t so sure about the ones working in Howard’s private basement. He took in a sharp breath.

“Tony,” Pepper murmured.

“The Arc reactor’s good,” Tony said, softly. He hesitated and then stuffed the magnifying glass into his bag. If he got the chance, he was going drop it off in Daniel’s mailbox; it was the least he could do. He was pretty sure Daniel wouldn’t want a bunch of blood-soaked comics. That wasn’t the kind of thing someone wanted to see when they heard their husband had been murdered.

“What’s wrong?” Pepper knelt down in front of Tony. She always had been better at dealing with feelings. She was so calm – even when she was hurting; her calm was what had kept him going through the years. She had never given up, even in the direst situations – and she had never let him give up either.

Tony heaved a sigh and rested his wrists on the table in front of him. “Carl’s shift would have ended twenty minutes ago,” he said.

“Oh,” Pepper said. Her eyes widened. “Oh _shit_.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “The day shift’s going to be heading in soon.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Pepper said, standing up. “Barnes?”

Bucky stood up, standing at attention.

“Do you have a way to get word out?” Pepper asked.

Bucky shook his head. “I broke my comm a while back. I can try and find you a landline if you want, but I don’t think any of the will work. Hydra always takes out the phones first.”

“We have _my_ phone,” Tony said, perking up.

Pepper flicked Tony in the nose. “I told you it was a good idea to keep it.” She pulled it out of her pocket and dialed, pressing it to her ear. Her grin grew wider when the call went through uninterrupted by static. “Fury?” she said. “I need a favor.”

They couldn’t hear Fury’s retort, but it must have been something vicious, because Pepper’s grin turned into an unimpressed frown. “I know we’re in _trouble_ – well, it’s kind of hard to miss with all the guys shooting at us. Can you not – just _listen_ – Stane is trying to kill us and he has a bunch of stolen SI tech on hand. He’s made his own company – he’s got firepower now.” Pepper fell silent; she listened patiently to what Fury said and then hung up the phone and tucked it into her pocket after turning it off. “Everything is taken care of,” she said, her eyes glinting murderously.

“Good,” Tony said. He flipped the suit’s emergency catches and pulled it open with a whimper. The metal fought back and tried to trap him inside; it had been designed that way for safety’s sake – sure, getting the suit off in a hurry could be useful, but he hadn’t wanted it to open like that unless it was an real goddamned emergency. He stepped out of the suit and rolled his shoulders, moaning blissfully at the sensation of finally, _finally_ , having the extra weight gone.

Bucky watched Tony, a careful, guarded look in his eyes.

Tony snatched up the reactor Bucky had brought him and snapped the old one out of the suit. He compared the knockoff to the real thing before he unceremoniously stuffed the dead reactor into his bag; he wasn’t going to leave it lying around even if it was only useful was as a paperweight. His work was years beyond that of the person who had built the knockoff reactor, and even though Stane’s engineers had been following _his_ plans, they hadn’t had the modified equipment Tony had had at his disposal. Their welding was sloppy by comparison – it was _detectable_. Despite that, Tony knew better than to look down on the gift. The new reactor would do – for now. He slipped the reactor in place; the blue glow it emitted nearly blinded him. He took a step back, blinking away black spots, feeling giddy. “It’s alive!” he mock cackled.

Bucky cocked an eyebrow at his antics but didn’t move otherwise.

“So what target do you want to hit first?” Pepper asked. She was all business now that Tony’s suit was working again; the playfulness in her had been locked away again.

Tony stepped into the suit and let it wrap itself around him. “Oh that’s nice,” he sighed. “I missed you, internal heating. Baby, never leave me again.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Pepper growled. “Work now – you can kiss upto your heater later.”

“Alright, alright,” Tony grumbled. “Give me a second – Jarvis is recalibrating.”

“Fine,” Pepper said, her arms crossed neatly over her chest.

“What did Fury say, by the way?” Bucky asked. He let the sniper rifle drop from his shoulder into his lap, and checked it over even though it looked perfectly fine to Tony.

“Hydra has already informed him that they have plans for the building,” Pepper said, flatly.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “Do they know that I’m not on their side anymore?”

“They think you’re dead,” Pepper said. “SHIELD thinks you’re dead too.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, saluting her.

“For what?” Pepper asked, looking confused.

“For not correcting them,” Bucky said.

“I wasn’t going to hand over our only _sniper_. You’re the only one of use around here,” Pepper chuckled. “You done fooling around with your suit, Tony?”

Tony lifted up his hand and gave her the finger. “What do you think?” he grumbled.

She scowled at him. “I think you’re a smartass.”

“Well, then this smartass is good to go,” Tony said. “Lead on, Commander Potts.”

“I like the sound of that,” Pepper said. She clapped her hands together. “Alright. First thing’s first. Stane’s got suits down there that look like they’re your suit’s bastard children,” she drawled. She ran her hand over the suit’s shoulder, checking it out, feeling her way along the plating. “Do the suits down there run on the same system as yours?” she asked after a moment of quiet contemplation.

Tony blinked slowly. “What?” he asked, confused. Why the hell would they – oh. Oh! “I don’t know – but I can get Jarvis to find out.”

 

 

Tony, Pepper and Bucky hovered inches away from a gaping hole in the lobby ceiling. Stane’s men hadn’t been as patient with the elevators as the rest of the mercenaries, soldiers and thieves; what hadn’t worked for them had been either blocked off or destroyed. Instead of taking the stairs, Stane’s men had simply blown a hole in the floor and propped a ladder up to get them through. It was messy, hasty, work and judging by the way the soldiers were ignoring this section of the floor, Stane hadn’t expected anyone to find his little impromptu doorway.

Pepper scoffed at the hole and nodded to Bucky.

They could see Stane’s shiny bald head _perfectly_ from here. It had seemed too good to be true, but after a careful scan with the suit’s sensors, they realized that things were just dandy. There wasn’t a single spy camera planted anywhere near them; the only ones Jarvis had spotted were located in the stairwells leading down to the floor below; Stane had likely thought that Tony was too much of a baby to take any other route than the stairs. Tony was glad Stane thought so poorly of him; this was an advantage he would gladly take.

“Alright,” Pepper whispered. “We stick to the plan. Tony heads down first, chats Stane up, sees if he can talk the guy down. If not, Barnes, you do your thing. Be careful,” she said, licking her dry lips. “Try not to shoot any of the arc reactors directly. We don’t want an explosion taking out the hostages.”

“Understood,” Bucky said. He settled down on the floor on his belly and started setting up his shot. When he noticed that Pepper and Tony hadn’t moved yet, he shifted restlessly. “I hope you two aren’t expecting _me_ to do all the work.”

Tony nudged Bucky’s boot. “We’ll pull our own weight. We’re waiting for Jarvis to finish hacking their security system. It’ll take a few more minutes – but you know what?” Tony grunted, squinting at Stane through the hole in the floor. “I’m thinking I should start moving now. He’s got that pinched look on his face. That’s never a good sign. He’s either really pissed off at me, or he missed his bowl of bran this morning.”

“That’s more than I needed to know,” Bucky said, peering through the sniper rifle’s scope. “Do you want me to take him out first? Or do you want me to prioritize picking off Stone?”

“Make Stane your priority,” Tony said, grimly. He put the faceplate down and headed towards the stairwell with Pepper behind him. He didn’t have any more warm and fuzzy feelings for Obie, or for Tiberius for that matter but it was still strange to be planning their deaths; he consoled himself with the knowledge that it had to be done if they wanted to get out alive. Obadiah Stane wouldn’t stand to be cheated out of a prize as good at this, and as long as he was alive and in control of his new corporation, there would be no stopping him. Stane would hunt them to the ends of the earth if he had to, and he wouldn’t have any qualms about spending a few million dollars to blow up civilians if it meant getting his hands on Steve’s body and Tony’s brain.

“I have finished hacking the requested systems,” Jarvis said, interrupting Tony’s thoughts.

“Good job, buddy,” Tony said. “Alright – we’re good to go now.” He gave Pepper a sharp salute. “Good luck, Pep.” He was more worried about Pepper’s life than he was about his own. She had the more difficult task. She was going to have to time her decent very carefully if she wanted to avoid getting caught. She would have ten minutes to wait while Tony tried to talk Stane down; if that didn’t work, the cameras would be cut by Jarvis for thirty seconds so she could get closer. _Hopefully_ , Stane and his minions wouldn’t expect Pepper or Bucky to show up; Pepper had been left behind in a hallway after all, and with luck, they would think she was as dead as the Winter Soldier.

“Keep safe, Tony,” Pepper said.

Tony waited until Pepper had ducked out of sight and threw open the stairwell door. He could have glided down the centre of the stairwell, but chose instead to save his energy; he was going to need it. He took the stairs two at a time even though he didn’t particularly want to rush the descent. Stane was like Howard; he hated being kept waiting.

 

 

It didn’t take long to reach the bottom of the stairwell. Stane had made things easy. Tony hadn’t even needed to use the suit to get through the fire door; it had been torn off its hinges and was lying a few feet away in the lobby. Tony took in a deep breath, steadied himself, and stepped out into the lobby with his hands held up, aware that all eyes were on him.

“Tony!” Stane called out. His eyes crinkled at the corners; he smiled gleefully as he shoved Tiberius away from him into a waiting soldier’s arms and clanked over to meet Tony. His suit had been made from the same plain polished metal as Tony’s, but while his suit looked like Tony’s work, that was where the similarities ended. Stane’s suit had the same structural design, but it was far bigger – almost _too_ big even, for such a large room; it was massive, and it hadn’t looked that way through the security camera’s lenses. There were twin Gatling guns mounted on the suit’s shoulders, and they looked like they had already seen action. Stane’s jetboots seemed less like boots and more like they were stumps with a trio of ‘toes’ attached to them; his suit’s arms were just as clunky. They couldn’t lift up the suit’s gauntleted hands without the aid of hydraulic pumps. Stane’s suit was outdated, heavy and showy compared to Tony’s armor.

Tony grinned, thankful for the helmet’s faceplate. If Stane could see the look on his face, he would have shit a brick.

Stane strode up to Tony, his suit clanking away, grinning widely with his teeth bared.

Tony paid special attention to Stane’s suit’s movements; he had Jarvis record everything he saw. Stane’s suit might not look dangerous, aside from pure brute strength, but that didn’t mean they could ignore it.

Tiberius struggled against the soldiers holding on to him, glaring at Stane with such venom, it looked for once like he had found a new enemy to hate. He gave up fighting quickly when he realized that his captors were more than willing to hit him with the butt of their rifles. He went quietly after a hit to the temple, and let himself be dragged off to the side of the lobby near a potted fern. He didn’t look happy with his new position in Stane’s army, and he didn’t look happy to see Tony alive either; it was strange to see him so passive – so immobilized by his rage. It wasn’t right. Something was wrong, even if Stane couldn’t see that. Tony wondered what Ty was waiting for.

“Why so modest, Tony? Let’s see that handsome face of yours,” Stane said.

Tony obliged Stane if only to keep the mood from souring. He stood still, not wanting to make any sudden moves with his faceplate open. Stane’s men had their weapons aimed at his head and there were an awful lot of barrels to stare down. He had designed the suit to survive regular bullets, explosions and armor piercing rounds, but he hadn’t counted on there being quite so many guns aimed at him at _exactly_ the same time. Could he withstand the inevitable barrage of bullets? He sure hoped so, but while the math was good, his brain was telling him to be extremely careful. The suit was just a prototype, and seeing the enemy made it clear just how much room for improvements he had. He began to make a mental list for later improvements.

“Tony,” Stane practically _purred_. “Good to see you.”

“Obie,” Tony said. “I take it you did some remodeling. I don’t know if I like it. It’s a little too open-concept for me.”

Stane chuckled. “I know, it’s a little different, but I think you’ll come to like it in time. We’ve all _changed_ today – I’m sure you get what I mean.”

“Oh?” Tony cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I do, actually.”

“Don’t play dumb,” Stane sighed, his smile faltering.

“I’m not playing _dumb_. You changed your hair, right? That’s what you changed?” Tony said, flashing Stane a smarmy grin.

“Very funny, Tony. How do you like my new suit?” Stane drawled, baring his teeth. “It’s _nice_ , isn’t it?”

“It’s shockingly familiar,” Tony said, feigning boredom. “I mean, it’s all shiny and new, but I think I’ve seen it before. I guess that means you and the boys put in overtime, huh?”

“Oh, we’ve been putting in overtime for _weeks_ , Tony,” Stane said. “Didn’t you wonder why I needed the Arc reactor blueprints by the end of the week?”

“I actually _was_ wondering that. But hey,” Tony said with a lazy shrug, “I figured it was all Howard’s fault. He’s a real jerk when it comes to scheduling. He’s pushy, pushy, pushy.”

“That’s very true,” Stane said, solemnly. He flashed Tony a toothy grin again. “He’s trapped downstairs, isn’t he?”

“I would assume so,” Tony said. “He’s doing his own thing, as always. You know how it is with him – his projects come first.”

“You’re a good son, Tony,” Stane said, shaking his head. “I don’t know why Howard routinely fails to see that. We could fix that, you know. You could get a much better father figure. Someone stronger – bolder – richer.”

“I don’t want to be your son,” Tony snapped. He clenched his fists and then forced his fingers to relax again. Now was not the time to become angry, he chided himself.

“That really hurts, Tony,” Stane sighed, nearly bowing in the suit. His head looked microscopic poking out of the top of it. It was a miracle he had managed to get the damn thing in the building without having to knock out the front door.

“So what’s this about?” Tony asked, gesturing to the crowd of soldiers. “I see a lot of unfamiliar faces. Did you come trick-or-treating?”

“I came for your brain,” Stane said.

Tony kept his smile plastered on his face, refusing to let his disgust show. “Literally? Or figuratively?”

“Oh,” Stane drawled, “A little of both, I suppose.” He turned, his suit letting out a hiss, and smirked at Tiberius. “You’ll be under guard at all times, of course. I know your Ex is a little – obsessive. I wouldn’t want him to spoil anything.”

“Right,” Tony grunted.

“I need your suit designs, Tony. This,” he said, motioning with his massive suit’s gauntleted hands, “Is too clumsy. I like what _you’re_ wearing – I want more of that and less of this.”

“I guess size does matter,” Tony chuckled.

“I suppose so,” Stane agreed. “Why don’t you step out of your suit and show me what you’ve done with it?”

“You haven’t even bought me dinner yet and you already want me stripping,” Tony said.

“Take off the suit, Tony,” Stane growled dangerously. His cheery smile was long gone.

“You had Hammer make yours, huh?” Tony clucked his tongue. “ _Really_? Hammer? Why work with a competitor? Why not build your baby in-house?”

“Hammer was convenient. Hostile takeovers don’t work well if you show all of your cards early,” Stane said, glaring at Tony. “Now stop being a little shit and take off the suit.”

“I don’t think so, Obie,” Tony said. He smiled brilliantly when Jarvis began to take over the armors Stane’s men were wearing. The smile became a frown when Stane’s suit remained untouched; Stane’s suit was the oldest of the bunch, and while it had an AI programmed into it for control, it was so rudimentary, it couldn’t interface with anything.

Tony cleared his throat. Every suit wearer aimed their guns at Stane.

Stane’s brow furrowed. “Really? You _hacked_ my men?”

“Did you expect me to stand around and let you take my friends?” Tony scoffed. “I thought you were supposed to be a _businessman_ , Obie. Aren’t you supposed to get that kind of stuff?”

Stane’s faceplate snapped into place in time to avoid a bullet that was aimed at his head.

Tiberius dove behind the potted plant and vanished from sight; the soldiers holding him sprang into action.

Tony grimaced and fired his repulsors at Stane, trying to draw his attention away from the _mysterious_ bullet. He hit Stane’s chestplate repeatedly, trying to disable the internal wiring without hitting the Arc Reactor so the fight would end before it had really started.

It didn’t work.

Stane’s armor plating was thicker than Tony had originally designed, and while the repulsors were doing damage, they weren’t doing enough of it to pierce the metal. The dents they made weren’t all that impressive. He felt like a small child hitting someone twice his size and weight; he wasn’t so sure he could keep it up for long, but he knew he had to keep trying. The more repulsor blasts he used, the more power the Arc reactor drained. Running was probably his best option, he realized with a grimace when the next repulsor blast did nothing more than stagger Stane. If Stane’s arc reactor was built from the same specs, it would drain down easily enough with provocation.

Stane’s roar of a laugh bubbled from his suit’s external speakers. The suit lifted its arms and opened fire, hitting Tony in the chest.

Tony skidded backwards and out of range, choking on his breath. Every blast that hit the armor _hurt_ , and a shot to the chest was like being hit with a breezeblock. He kept calm. The suit’s sensors were right; nothing had broken through. “Jarvis,” he coughed, running away from Stane, “Let’s turn this around, huh? I want to see Stane’s babies attacking _him_.”

“Yes sir,” Jarvis said. “Initiating countdown sequence – Thirty seconds remain.”

“Good man,” Tony croaked. He managed to skid behind a group of armored-up soldiers just as Stane started firing again; he ducked out of sight. The move would hopefully give him a few minutes to recover and catch his breath.

He was wrong.

Stane’s minions had armor on, but they weren’t wearing the same high quality stuff as Stane; the metal in their armor seemed akin to wallpaper, or perhaps cereal box cardboard. The suits tore open when hit by Stane’s bullets and repulsor blasts, spraying Tony with blood and bits of metal and _meat_.

Tony threw himself as far away from the armored soldiers as possible, desperate to get away; his stomach churned unpleasantly at the sight. He might have wanted to use Stane’s soldiers as shields before, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to do that again. They might be the enemy, but no one deserved to become human coleslaw.

The armored soldiers who survived Stane’s initial attack fell to the floor. Their screams were so shrill, so full of anguish, that Tony was forced to mute the suit’s external microphones to keep from freezing up; he felt dizzy being so suddenly swallowed up by silence as the world went wild around him, yet at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that he couldn’t hear the sound of bullets flying, replusors blasting and metal tearing. Jarvis’ control was a thing of beauty. He was going to have to make sure the AI got a container worthy of that one day.

Tony peered around a pile of crates and watched as Bucky fired again and again at Stane’s helmet-covered head. Every shot was perfectly timed, blending in with the chaotic rattle of gunfire and pinging metal from the battle below him. Stane’s minions continued firing at Stane from all sides, trying to take Stane down despite their willingness to help him win.

Stane was _furious_. After a few minutes of allowing himself to be shot at, he began to target his own minions once more, killing them before they could be used against him. Some of the men panicked and tried to flee; their suits jerked as though they were dancing marionettes heading off-stage, but there was no way for them to leave – not with Jarvis locking them in place. They died where they stood.

Tony circled the room, keeping himself in Stane’s sightline at all times. He stayed far away from Steve and the hostages so that he didn’t draw attention to Pepper’s arrival; he watched her in the suit’s sensors as she made her way through a row of potted plants and cheered her on in silence.

Pepper tripped over a plastic tub that had been filled with grenades. She ducked down, disappearing from sight as the plastic broke.

Stane turned, drawn by his suit’s sensors; unlike Tony, he hadn’t turned the microphones off.

“What’s wrong, Stane?” Tony called out. “Are you having a hard time? Seeing things, old man?”

Stane let out a sharp snort. “Fuck you, Tony.”

“You wish,” Tony said. He fired a repulsor blast off at Stane to keep the bastard’s attention from drifting, and then wiggled his ass in Stane’s direction when that didn’t move things along fast enough.

The ass wiggling worked almost _too_ well.

Tony had to use his jetboots to get out of the way as a missile tore after him, fired from a hidden cannon in Stane’s suit’s shoulder. Tony shot the missile down and turned in mid-air, flipping Stane off. “You missed me,” he chanted. He flew at Stane again with his repulsors blazing, keeping the bursts short and precise.

“You little _prick_ ,” Stane roared, stomping after Tony. “Get back here and face me like a man!”

“What’s wrong, Obie? Can’t fly?” Tony jeered. He twirled his body in the air, dodging repulsor blasts and gunfire from the mercenaries that weren’t tied up fighting their own colleges. Being out of range, was nice, but it made things more dangerous for Pepper, and Bucky. Up here, he could see Bucky’s sniper rifle, and if _he_ could see it, Stane might notice it too. Tony dove back down and kept low to the ground, trying to keep out of Bucky’s way _and_ Stane’s.

Despite the lack of height, the aerial display seemed to keep Stane absolutely _mesmerized_. His repulsor blasts followed Tony everywhere, scorching the walls and potted plants. The blasts that hit sent Tony cartwheeling through the air, but they didn’t keep him down for long.

Tony grinned to himself as he dodged another repulsor blast. This was going great! They were going to win at this rate – Stane’s minions were nothing more than a smouldering heap and those who hadn’t been in suits had finally given up and made a break for the doors, trying to get the hell out of dodge before they ended up dead like their armored companions.

“Sir?” Jarvis’ voice sounded strained.

“Yes?” Tony said, dodging another repulsor blast.

“You are running on fifty percent battery,” Jarvis said. “I am putting the percentage up on the HUD for future reference.”

“Great,” Tony scowled. He had hoped the Arc reactor would last longer than this, but he had known that it was going to drain itself down eventually. He was flying now, after all, and that took up a fair amount of energy all on its own.

Tony scanned the room for signs of Pepper and spotted her crouched behind Romanoff’s turned back. She was working at the zip-ties that were keeping Romanoff’s hands trapped, slicing at them with a box cutter. He wished he could tell her to hurry it up, but without comms, there was no way to contact her unless he wanted to open the faceplate and yell.

Stane took another pot-shot at Tony and then turned, rotating his suit around in a sluggish circle as he searched for more targets. “Why are you flying around, Tony?” Stane growled. He turned again when Tony zipped past him, trying to draw his attention, but this time, he didn’t fall for the distraction. “You little _shit_ ,” he hissed when he spotted Pepper. “Did you think you’d get one up on me? Did you? You little fucking _shit_!”

Pepper snapped Romanoff’s zip-ties and grabbed Rhodey by the arm, dragging him to cover behind Steve’s containment tube; Barton crawled after them with his arms still trapped behind his back.

Tony didn’t need to hear Pepper to know what she was ordering him to do. He threw himself onto Stane, latching on like he was a human backpack. He punched at Stane’s armor, aiming at the joints that connected the gauntlets to the shoulder plates; metal sparked and bent under his repeated assaults. The hydraulics screamed as they tried to keep up.

Stane began punching back at Tony. His armor was bigger but he was slower and every move he made to dislodge Tony was easily spotted and avoided.

Tony continued to hammer away at Stane’s armor, chipping away at it one piece at a time.

“Sir?” Jarvis said, “I would recommend turning the suit’s external microphones back on. I believe Ms. Potts has something to tell you.”

Tony switched the sound back on; he couldn’t believe he had forgotten about it. He staggered when he heard the hissing and shrieking behind him and found himself grabbed by one of Stane’s gigantic hands. He smashed at Stane’s gauntlets, using his repulsors to superheat the metal until Stane was forced to drop him or be burned.

“Fuck you, Tony. You think you’ve won?” Stane said. His suit’s speakers crackled. Stane’s armor began to click; the suit’s arc reactor flickered and went dead.

Tony let out an excited whoop. They were free! They had won!

“Tony!” Pepper shouted from behind Steve’s tube. “For fuck’s sake – turn around!”

Tony fired up his jetboots, ducked under Stane’s stiffened arm and turned as instructed.

The victory tasted like ash in Tony’s mouth.

Bucky was dangling from the hole in the floor by his sniper rifle’s strap, just out of reach of a swarm of bloody-faced test subjects who had gathered around the hole in the ceiling; the sniper rifle was caught on a strand of rebar, a piece that was slowly bending under Bucky’s weight.

The test subjects clawed and shrieked, trying to get a hold of Bucky. They stilled, their gaze turning collectively to Steve and the containment tube.

Bucky kicked his feet back and forth, trying to find something to latch onto; the floor was a good twenty feet below him, and while the drop might not outright killing him, he would definitely break bones. “Stark,” Bucky shouted, as he swung from the sniper rifle’s shoulder strap. “Get your ass over here!”

Tony flew as fast as he could. He watched as the energy percent in the corner of his HUD dipped lower and lower.

Twenty percent left, he noted as the sniper rifle’s strap broke and sent Bucky tumbling down.

Seventeen percent, the HUD flashed.

Tony caught Bucky in his arms and swung around, using the jetboots to push them away from the test subjects in a flare of bright white light. He heard the creatures yowling as they dropped down through the hole, trying to follow after them, and winced at each meaty thud.

“Thanks,” Bucky grunted, wrapping an arm tightly around Tony’s neck. He didn’t seem to mind that he was being held like a blushing bride in Tony’s arms; he seemed more upset by the loss of the sniper rifle. He watched it mournfully over Tony’s shoulder as they flew away.

Tony landed beside Steve’s containment tube and set Bucky on his feet just as the suit’s power dropped to ten percent. He opened the faceplate, hoping to save some energy by not using the speakers. “I hope you guys have a good plan for taking those bastards down, because I’m almost out of juice,” he said.

“Do you spot anything lying around that’s useful?” Pepper asked. She steadied her rifle and shot at one of the soldiers that had started looking too intently at Tony’s forehead; the man went down face first, his shotgun skidding across the floor.

Barton scooped the shotgun up and dragged the man’s body closer. He and Romanoff stripped the fallen mercenary of his weapons and then heaved him away with a look of disgust.

“I see you two are doing alright,” Tony said, dryly.

Romanoff cocked her new pistol and shrugged. “It’s not like we haven’t been in war zones before.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Rhodey said, shaking his head. “I guess you would know.”

“Of course we would. _Your_ targets don’t usually shoot back – ours always do,” Romanoff grunted, shooting through the faceplate of the last standing armored soldier. The suit toppled over with a creak of metal and landed on its back, rocking back and forth as it settled. “That’s the benefit of being the clean-up team,” Romanoff said. “You never have to get your hands dirty.”

“We got our hands _plenty_ dirty,” Rhodey growled, taking a step towards Romanoff. “I can show you if you want.”

“Enough. Go get a weapon,” Barton grunted. He steadied his rifle. “I’ll cover you.”

Rhodey sighed and backed down. “Roger that.” He and Bucky darted towards the plastic containers scattered around the room under Barton’s watchful eye.

Stane’s armor began to click again; the arc reactor flickered and came back to life, bathing them in blue light. The suit turned to face the approaching test subjects with a shrill squeak as its servos protested the movement. Stane opened fire on anything that got too close to him; when the attackers were dead, he whirled to face Tony, his repulsors charged and glowing eerily in the low light.

“Did you think battery trouble was going to stop me?” Stane seethed. His suit’s speakers made his voice come out in a whine. Something sparked inside Stane’s suit’s neck-plating as he turned to face Tony; the speakers went dead.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Tony drawled, shaking his head. “Can’t hear you. You’re going to need to speak _louder_.”

Stane fired at Tony, missed, and then turned back to the test subjects, drawn by movement behind him.

The creatures were hunting again. They began to scamper upside-down on the ceiling, pouring out of the hole together in one writhing mass. Their clawed feet and hands dug into the soft drywall, using it to keep them safely suspended above the lobby floor. They skittered closer, heading straight for Steve’s containment tube, raining drywall powder on the floor below.

Tony fired off repulsor blast after repulsor blast at the approaching test subjects, watching as his suit’s energy level dropped down to five percent. Movement became taxing; the suit strained to keep up its end of the bargain, and Tony’s already exhausted body couldn’t pull the weight along. He could feel the strength leeching out of his muscles. He knew he couldn’t keep it up for long, but maybe he didn’t have to.

“Is Steve awake yet?” Tony wheezed. He forced the suit to turn so he could face Bucky, who had managed to get his hands on a shotgun and was actively using it to blow the test subjects closest to them to bits.

Bucky turned and fired another round, killing a creature that had been creeping up on Tony. He vaulted over a broken flower pot someone had been trying to turn into cover and slapped his metal hand against Steve’s containment tube once, then twice. He glanced at the lock keeping the containment tube shut and shook his head. “It looks like he’s still sedated. I don’t know if he’s going to be of any use even if he gets out of that fucking tube. They probably used enough tranquilizers to knock out a rhino.”

Tony forced the suit to walk over to the containment tube; Jarvis’ scans helpfully supplied that it had been built out of bulletproof plastic, and metal, supplies that would take more energy to take apart than he had access to at the moment. He put his hand on the bulletproof glass and leaned forward, peering through it. There was a fine mist still hovering in the air inside the containment tube; Steve was plastered to the back of the tube, slumped with his mouth slightly open.

Bucky was right; there wasn’t much chance of Steve waking up unless they got him out into the open air.

Tony looked over the lock, using the suit’s sensors to scan it while he still had power.

They were shit out of luck.

The lock was top-notch – electronic, well designed and _strong_. If it hadn’t been engaged, they might have been able to pull the clamshell door open and dragged Steve out to safety, but sadly things weren’t that easy. He glanced over at Steve’s shield. Vibranium, he mused, could break damn near everything and look! There was some nice, polished Vibranium. Maybe they weren’t so shit out of luck after all.

“Do you think we can crack it open?” Bucky asked. He shot one of the creatures as it tried to attack the containment tube and punched another out of his way when it tried to slash at his face.

“I don’t know,” Tony said, knocking his gauntleted knuckle on the containment tube. He picked up Steve’s shield and held it delicately in his hands even though he knew it was impossible to damage Vibranium that easily. He pursed his lips when he noticed a tiny plaque at the bottom of the lock, one that bore the name StaneTech. That didn’t bode well for them. The containment tube was proprietary equipment, owned and built with Obadiah Stane’s stamp of approval. Obie didn’t like being cheated or disobeyed; he had always fired employees he was unhappy with, even if they hadn’t done anything that really deserved it. What would he do to someone who tried to access something that was his? Tony was betting that whatever it was, it would not be nice.

Tony cleared his throat. “You know, I think this might be booby-trapped.”

“So what do we do?” Bucky snapped waspishly. “Are you going to try and hack the door then or what? We’re sitting ducks out here, Stark. Make up your fucking mind!”

The test subjects drifted closer, circling the containment tube; they snatched up the dying mercenaries they came across and dispatched them viciously by biting at their throats. Pepper, Rhodey, Clint and Natasha shifted closer in response, mirroring the movements, warily circling the containment tube.

Tony and Bucky fired at every test subject they could see; their combined effort worked wonders, but all too soon, Bucky was out of ammunition, and the suit went dead, drained of the last of its power after one last blast.

Tony punched weakly at one of the test subjects that had latched onto the back of his suit and dropped Steve’s shield by accident. He narrowly avoided losing an eye when the creature clawed at his open faceplate.

Bucky smashed the test subject in the forehead with his metal arm and shoved Tony up against the containment tube.

“Get the damn tube open,” Bucky ordered. “Stop fighting – I’ll watch your back. Just get it open!”

“I’m _working_ on it,” Tony hissed.

“Group up,” Pepper roared, firing at the test subjects as she moved. Rhodey, Romanoff, Barton and Bucky circled the containment tube, their eyes darting from enemy to enemy.

In the distance, Stane was still shooting at the creatures too, but he wasn’t doing well; the test subjects had started winning their fight. They hung off of Stane’s suit, clawing and biting at it wherever they found space. Stane’s suit was too slow to shake them off and, like Tony, he was running on borrowed time. The creatures damaged Stane’s faceplate; it flipped up, revealing Stane’s bald head and startled face.

“Stane,” Tony yelled, hoping to be heard over the cacophony.

“What do you want, Stark?” Stane snarled as he crushed one of the test subjects heads in his gauntleted hands.

“What’s the code to unlock the tube?” Tony said.

Stane let out throaty chuckle. “Do you really think I’d be dumb enough to let that _monster_ out at a time like this?”

“You’re _surrounded_ in monsters, Stane,” Tony snapped, fumbling with his bag. He didn’t want to have to pick the lock manually, but it was starting to look like their only option. He glared at the keypad, already hating it even though he had yet to dive into it. “I hope you get that you’re killing us all by keeping your mouth shut,” he yelled at Stane.

“The code is 19B559A,” Tiberius murmured, scaring the shit out of Tony. He was huddled beside a pile of empty crates, mere feet away from the containment tube, his eyes wild and wide. “You’d better use it fast,” he said, stuffing his earplugs into his ears.

Tony jabbed his fingers into the keypad, praying to whatever gods were up there that Tiberius wasn’t fucking with him. The internal lighting in the tube glowed bright green; a pneumatic hiss sent Tony wobbling backwards as the door swung open. He steadied himself and reached into the tube to yank Steve out. He let out a hacked cough as the gas from inside the tube rushed up his nose. He was right; the gas was indeed some kind of tranquilizer. He staggered, his knees going weak, his vision going blurry; he must have blacked out, because when his vision cleared again, he found himself sprawled in Bucky’s arms with Steve tucked neatly against him.

Tiberius moved closer to the tube despite the billowing gas, shoving himself past Bucky. He held up his Sonic Taser. “I’ve only got enough power for one more shot,” he said, scowling down at Tony. “I was going to save it for _your_ stupid ass, but you know what? I think I’d rather use it now and not die a horrible death.”

Tony coughed weakly and locked his arms to keep from dropping Steve. “How magnanimous of you,” he wheezed.

“You’d better not screw us over,” Rhodey growled. “If you do, I will find you and kill your sorry ass.” He looked ready to tear Tiberius’ head off with his bare hands.

Tiberius snorted. “Oh _please_. I’m not afraid of you.” He turned on the Sonic Taser with his thumb.

The shriek was just as awful and piercing as it had been before; it felt like it was crawling through Tony’s very bones, turning his muscles to jelly. Tony blinked slowly and found himself lying in a heap with his back pressed into Bucky’s warm belly and his face squashed against the side of Steve’s neck. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on breathing instead of on the feeling of utter helplessness. Instead, all he could feel was the cold floor against his cheek.

The test subjects dropped to the ground without a sound; they rained down from the ceiling, thudding against the floor with no way to slow their fall. They lay broken where they landed. Others drooped and slid down the walls, landing in piles, their legs and arms tangled and useless.

Tiberius let the Sonic Taser fall silent and took in a sharp breath through his nose. “ _Jesus_ – Remind me never to join up with you assholes again,” he muttered. He pulled his earplugs out and pocketed them. “Every time I’m with one of you, things get fucked up.”

“You did good, kid,” Stane called out. The test subjects that had been crawling on his suit fell away, dropping to the floor, limp and motionless.

Tiberius scowled. “I didn’t do it for _you_ ,” he snapped. He turned in a careful circle, looking for weaponry that had been overlooked. He found a soldier that hadn’t been picked over – a Hydra agent that had been missed the first time around – and stripped him of weapons, gathering everything up.

“Get me out of here and I’ll make it worth your time,” Stane yelled.

Tiberius kept his back to Stane as he continued to search for supplies. He patted at the next soldier he found and grinned when he came up with a battery pack. “Oh goodie,” he said, snapping the Sonic Taser’s battery hatch open. He swapped out the dead batteries for the new ones and put the Taser back into his pocket, grinning from ear to ear. He approached Tony with a swagger in his step and knelt in front of him with his hand held out. There, resting in the palm of his hand was an EMP grenade. He rolled it between his fingers, glancing over his shoulder at Stane and the motionless yet still functional armor. “You know, I hate you,” he said to Tony. The smile on his lips turned brittle. Up close, Tony could see that Tiberius’ face was covered with bruises; there was a particularly ugly handprint on the side of his throat.

“Stone, you’d better get me out of here,” Stane growled. “You _owe_ me.”

“I don’t owe you _anything_ ,” Tiberius said. He set the EMP grenade in Tony’s hand, wrapping the gauntlet’s fingers around it and stood up.

The creatures that had survived the Sonic Taser’s assault began to stir. Their recovery speed was far faster than it had been before when they were down below in the lower labs; the creatures pushed themselves upright on shaking limbs. They were already moving by the time Tony began to feel the first burst of strength in his fingertips.

Tiberius pulled the earplugs out of his pocket and fired up the Sonic Taser again. The shrieking noise knocked everyone back onto the ground.

Tony stared blandly up at the ceiling as his ears rang. The feeling in his fingers was gone again and it felt like he might never move again – for all he knew, that might be true. They never had tested what would happen to targets who had been repeatedly hit by the Sonic Taser.

The test subjects growled where they lay; their fingers and feet twitched.

Tiberius wasted no time. He started firing his rifle, emptying the clip he had, putting bullets in the brains of every test subject he came across; he moved quickly, circling the room, clearing it out. When he finally ran out of bullets, more than half of the remaining creatures had been dispatched, and out of the ten who remained only six were capable of moving.

Tiberius swept the room again, searching for more ammunition but his search proved fruitless. Everything that had been worth taking was long gone. He stalked over to Stane as the Taser’s effects began to wear off and slapped at the armor’s gigantic arms. “You’ve got power still,” he said, turning Stane’s frozen suit’s arm towards the creatures. “Fire – do something!”

Stane chuckled. “Do you think I’d be standing here if I could do that?”

Tiberius cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, I do.”

Stane’s smile grew until his teeth were bared in full force. “You know, I used to have so much hope for you,” he said. The suit’s arm shifted, pulling Tiberius along with it until the repulsors were pointed directly at his chest.

Tiberius’ eyes widened.

“I’ve got earplugs in,” Stane drawled. “Did you _honestly_ think that I was going to let you walk around with a Sonic Taser in your pocket and not take _precautions_?”

Tiberius took a step backwards, but there was nowhere for him to go. He tripped on one of the dead test subjects and flailed, trying to keep his balance.

Stane opened fire with a chuckle. He caught Tiberius in the chest with a repulsor blast and sent him flying through the air backwards. Tiberius hit the inside of the containment tube with a meaty thud and crumpled; he hadn’t even had the time to let out a scream. Tony couldn’t be sure whether Tiberius was alive or dead, but if he had to bet, he was pretty sure Tiberius wasn’t going to be getting up again – not after that.

Stane stomped closer to the containment tube to inspect his handiwork. The suit’s joints sparked with every move he made, but the Arc reactor was still going strong – unlike Tony’s. He found Tony and towered over him, gloating. “You’re lucky you’re _smart_ , Tony,” he said, reaching down. He dug his gauntleted fingers into Tony’s chestplate and hauled him up; the hydraulics in Stane’s suit groaned in protest. “I can keep _you_ , Stark. I _shouldn’t_ – not after you’ve betrayed me – but it’ll be like spitting in Howard’s face, so I think I will.” He let out a booming laugh as Tony lolled in his grip. “You’re so sweet like this. Look at you – _finally_ tolerable. I think I’ll keep a Sonic Taser around for you all the time.”

Tony smiled sweetly at Stane. He could feel his fingers again and he knew exactly what he wanted to do with them. “You know,” he said, pressing his thumb against the EMP grenade in his hand, activating it, “It’s sad that you actually think Howard cares enough to hate you for stealing me away.”

Stane frowned. “What are you talking about? He always goes on and on about how you’re his greatest creation.”

“Really?” Tony said, cocking an eyebrow. “That’s news to me.”

The EMP grenade let out a low whine as it went off. A pulse of energy tore through Tony’s hand, hitting his armor and Stane’s.

Tony’s forearm went numb all over again. He let out a hysterical laugh.

Stane swore. “You piece of _shit_ ,” he hissed. His face was still a good five inches away from Tony’s but unless he was planning on biting Tony’s nose off, there wasn’t much he could do.

Tony glanced over his shoulder, hoping that someone had recovered enough to get him out of Stane’s clutches. He was in luck.

Bucky stood up slowly, giving his head a shake. His metal arm was hanging limp at his side, having been knocked out by the EMP, but the rest of him seemed fine. He pulled the hunting knife from his belt and staggered forwards.

Stane’s eyes widened. “Don’t you _dare_.”

“Fuck you too, pal,” Bucky said. He dragged himself up onto Stane’s immobile armor, locking his legs around the suit’s hips and plunged the knife into Stane’s throat.

Blood splattered against Tony’s nose and cheek. He flinched and looked away, shuddering at the sound of Stane _gurgling_.

Bucky sighed and wiped the knife off on his sleeve; he stuffed it between his teeth. “You know,” he mumbled, his words somewhat garbled, “I think you’ve got some kind of death-wish.”

Tony swallowed the lump in his throat and tried not to look Stane’s corpse in the eye as Bucky reached down into the neck of Stane’s suit.

“Hold on,” Bucky said. He must have pressed something, because ten seconds later Tony found himself casually reacquainted with the floor.

Tony flailed weakly, trapped on his back.

Bucky looked down at the floor, and chuckled. “Someone help the poor bastard up,” he said.

Pepper and Rhodey dragged each other upright.

Romanoff and Barton struggled upright on their own, their eyes narrowed and expressions grim.

“You are so much _trouble_ , Stark,” Bucky growled. He yanked at Stane’s suit again and managed to get the hatch open with a gentle slice of his knife. “Look out below,” he called out.

Tony rolled himself out of the way as Stane dropped face first to the floor. He crawled towards Pepper, too weak to lift himself upright. Pepper helped him up with a weary sigh.

“You ok in there?” Pepper asked.

Tony steadied himself. “I’m tired and I have Stane’s blood on my nose,” he lamented. He bent over slowly, groaning, and picked up Steve’s shield. “I think I’m going to need to shower for a month.”

“Same here,” Pepper said.

Rhodey scooped Steve up like he was a sack of potatoes and threw him over his shoulder. “I’m thinking we want to get the hell out of here,” he said, nodding towards the stirring test subjects.

Stane’s suit whined as it came back online. Bucky slipped his knife back into its holster and clambered into the suit, smirking as the chestplate slid into place. “I’ve got this,” he said. The suit turned, still sparking, as he opened fire on the test subjects crawling across the floor towards the containment tube; the first few shots missed, but Bucky was a much faster learner than Stane had been. Within seconds, the remaining creatures were dead.

Steve groaned and lifted his head, startled awake by the sound of Bucky whooping in glee. “What’s going on?” he rasped.

Rhodey patted Steve’s thigh. “You’re ok, squirt. We’re getting out of here in a bit – let’s just wait for them to finish mopping up.”

“Where’s Tony?” Steve asked, his voice bordering on panic-stricken. The containment tube began to quiver, rocking back and forth in place as Steve’s powers flared up.

“Whoa,” Rhodey said, setting Steve down on his feet. He turned Steve around and pointed him in the right direction.

Tony had his arm slung lazily over Pepper’s shoulder; she was keeping them both upright, but only barely.

“Hey,” Tony said, waving weakly at Steve. “You’re awake.”

Steve wobbled like he was standing for the very first time and stumbled over to Tony.

The containment tube stilled; the clamshell doors snapped shut. Tony glanced inside it. Tiberius lay crumpled on the floor inside, his body twisted in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable. Tony couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry for the man who had almost killed them; Ty deserved whatever he got.

Tony grunted in surprise when Steve crashed into him; he wrapped his arm around Steve’s middle out of reflex.

Pepper sighed and shifted her stance, trying to balance Steve’s added weight. She arranged Tony so he was standing on his own and pried the shield out of Tony’s hand before backing up and giving them some space.

“Hey,” Steve said, grinning tiredly up at Tony.

“Hey,” Tony mumbled. He leaned his chin against the top of Steve’s head. “I think we did it.”

“We did what?” Bucky grunted, directing Stane’s suit closer to them.

“We made it to the lobby,” Tony said, grinning crookedly at Bucky.

“Yeah, but we haven’t made it _outside_ yet,” Bucky said. He scowled down into Stane’s suit. “I hate to ruin this happy moment, but the sensors in this thing are still working and they’re saying there’s a pretty big group of people approaching.”

Rhodey and Pepper sighed in unison.

“Which group is it _now_?” Romanoff asked. She tossed her empty pistol away. “I, for one, would like to know who we’re shooting at this time.”

Bucky glanced down at the inside of the suit again; he wasn’t nearly as large as Stane, and could easily duck his head below to look at the internal paneling. “There’s a bunch of little skull-headed octopuses blinking on screen,” he said.

“Great. So Hydra’s here,” Tony grumbled. “Can you convince them to go home?”

“I don’t think they’re going to listen to me – shit,” Bucky looked up sharply. “Something big is coming in hot. I don’t know what it is – the sensors aren’t picking up anything other than its size. I think Stane needs to update his OS a little.”

Pepper wrestled Tony’s phone out of her pocket and turned it on. She frowned down at it. “Fury told me to call him when we were ready for pickup,” she mused. “I’m hoping they decided to just send out a bird without asking first.”

Barton chuckled. “That sounds like something Fury would do.”

The phone rang. Pepper glanced at the caller ID, her frown morphing into a scowl. “It’s Howard,” she said, her lips curling in disgust.

“Great,” Tony snorted. “Just in time to tell us to swing by his place to drop off our souls.”

“Do you want me to take it?” Pepper asked.

“Go ahead, just don’t tell him I’m here,” Tony said. He smiled down at Steve. “Tell him I’m on vacation or something.”

Pepper answered the phone. “Hello?” She winced and held the phone away from her ear. “He’s telling us to get on the Quinjet – the plane outside – before someone shoots it down. He says the pilot will take us to him,” she said.

Tony frowned. It was great that they had a ride out of this hellhole, but did they really want to stay under Howard’s thumb? If they went to him now, it was likely that Steve would end up in another containment tube somewhere, and Bucky? Bucky was probably going to end up in a cell with scientists crowded around him trying to figure out how to get the last bit of Erskine’s serum from his blood. Tony shook his head. If they left now, they couldn’t do it with Howard knowing where they were going. They would need to disappear – all of them.

Pepper nodded along, waving a hand as if that might hurry things up. “Ok, Howard. We’ve got to go. We’re going to clean up here and head out,” she said. She hung up and tossed the phone over her shoulder into the rubble. “So,” she said, nodding to Romanoff and Barton. “Do either one of you know how to fly a stolen plane?”

Tony grinned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if I missed anything! : ) Only one chapter left!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home was a place Tony had only ever really planned; he had never found one, but now that he had, he was glad for it.

Romanoff led the way to the Quinjet with Barton practically glued to her side, strutting like she was on a catwalk with her pistol in hand; the others waited in the lobby entrance behind a potted fern, watching for trouble. Romanoff and Barton made quick work of getting the Quinjet’s hatch open, vanished for a full ten seconds and returned to the lobby, laughing to themselves. The damned jet was running on autopilot; there had been no pilot to knock out. 

Bucky hoisted Tony over his shoulder and carried him to the Quinjet, still wearing Stane’s armor; Rhodey scooped up Steve and followed after them with Pepper watching their backs. No one crept out of the shadows to strike at them. The building, and surrounding facility had gone eerily quiet. They didn’t waste time dawdling and debating on the reason for the silence, so they pushed on.

The Quinjet’s interior was  _ luxurious _ . There were three rows of padded leather seats, each with their own armrests and cup holder; while there were no windows, there were large video monitors hanging in front of the seats, presumably for inflight entertainment. Care had been taken with every last detail. Not a single inch of space was left unfinished; the floor was a deep black, and the walls were a soft gray. There was even a snack trolley sitting in an alcove near the front of the jet, and in the very back, hidden behind a black sliding door was a small bathroom. 

Rhodey held Steve up so Pepper could hoist Steve up through the hatch; she carried him over to middle row of the plush seats and strapped him in so he wouldn’t be thrown around if they ran into turbulence during their flight.

“I’m fine, you know,” Steve grumbled sleepily as he melted into the seat.

“I know,” Pepper said, smoothing down Steve’s hair. 

Rhodey heaved Tony into the Quinjet. “Damn, man. You’re fucking heavy,” he grumbled.

“I know,” Tony wheezed. “Shit happens. Help me out of this thing, will you?”

Rhodey clambered into the Quinjet with Romanoff and Clint scrambling in after him. He helped Tony strip out of his armor, finding the safety snaps after a few failed attempts, and pulled him free. 

Tony stumbled over to a seat and collapsed with a moan that sounded damn near  _ indecent _ even to his own ears.

Rhodey rolled his eyes at Tony. “Would you stop that? You sound like a fucking  _ pervert _ ,” he muttered.

“He  _ is _ a pervert,” Pepper snorted.

Tony flipped Pepper off. “I am not,” he sighed. 

Rhodey chuckled and turned to Bucky, who was trying to fit himself through the Quinjet hatch even though his attempts were failing miserably. “You’re going to have to take that damn thing off, you know,” he said.

Bucky scowled. “No I don’t. I’m keeping it as a trophy,” he insisted.

“It has GPS in it and they can track us with it,” Rhodey said, his hands settling on his hips.

Bucky sighed and opened up the chestplate. He slid out into the Quinjet, landing on his knees, and unceremoniously kicked the suit out of the door; it hit the ground and lay face down as though it had tripped and fallen. “Fine,” he said, standing up and dusting off his knees. “It smelled like cheese in there anyway.”

“I think Stark’s going to have to build us  _ all _ suits now,” Pepper chuckled. 

“I think so too,” Rhodey said, cracking a grin. 

Tony twisted in his seat, stretching his aching back. He extended his feet until he had stretched the tips of his toes. “I’ll get right on that,” he grunted.

“How about you get on the GPS and autopilot for this badboy first?” Barton said, settling in the pilot’s seat. “Unless you  _ want _ to go home to daddy – I mean, I can drop you off, but I’m pretty sure the rest of us want to get the hell  _ away _ from Howard Stark.”

“Very funny,” Tony said. He stood up, scooped up his bag from where it had landed on the floor, and dove into the cockpit, tired but ready to get to work. He pulled a screwdriver out of his bag and used it to popped open the emergency repair paneling under the dashboard, sorting through the wires he found inside on his hands and knees. He didn’t have a computer to use to hack the Quinjet’s controls, but he had Jarvis, even if the suit’s batteries were dead; Jarvis was probably better than a computer anyway. He turned to get up just as his helmet dropped into his lap by a smiling Pepper. “Thanks,” he said.

“Not a problem,” Pepper said. She smoothed down Tony’s unruly hair. “I figured you’d need it.”

“That I do,” Tony said. He felt around inside the helmet and found the square of metal he needed; he pressed down on it. The springs lifted the square, revealing a set of hidden connection ports. He pulled the connector cables he needed from his bag, unwinding them and checking them for tears. When he was satisfied that they had survived the trip without damage, he plugged the suit’s helmet into the console and grinned as the helmet’s eyes began go glow with white light. “Hey, Jarvis,” he said, rapping his knuckles the top of helmet. “Wakey, wakey!” He set the helmet down on the dashboard.

“Good evening sir,” Jarvis said. “Is my assistance required?”

“Indeed we do. We need you to hack in and disable the GPS and autopilot. Think you can handle that?” Tony asked.

“It would be, as you say, a piece of cake, sir,” Jarvis said, dryly.

“Speaking of cake – You’ve got my backups, right?” Tony asked.

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis said. “I have transferred everything to the drives located in your private residence as requested.”

“Good. Keep the place locked down until we get there,” Tony said. He turned to Barton. “Alright Barton, get us moving – I want to get there before Howard figures out that we’re stealing his toy.”

“Your private residence will remain in lockdown until your arrival,” Jarvis said. “Would you like anything else?”

Tony stood up and leaned against the cockpit doorway. He looked around at the others. “What do you think? Chinese food or pizza?”

Steve smiled. “Anything sounds good.”

“You think we’ll have time?” Pepper asked, pursing her lips.

“Sure,” Tony said. “My place is an hour away from here and Howard doesn’t even know I bought it. We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Is that why your student loan payments are so ridiculously high?” Rhodey asked, barking out a laugh. “You rat bastard! You’ve been sneaking around, haven’t you?”

Tony smirked. “What can I say? I like planning ahead.”

 

 

Tony squinted out the window, scowling down at the road below them. The Quinjet was ran _quiet_ , not that there was anyone around to hear them, and they were making good time. “Stop the jet,” he yelled, his face pressed up against the glass. He could see someone sitting in the road down below – someone buck naked and holding a cardboard box.

“Is that Banner?” Pepper asked, pushing Tony out of the way so she could see out the window.

“I think so,” Tony said. “Jarvis – scan him. Is that Banner?”

“I am unsure, sir,” Jarvis said, apologetically. “The readings I have for Doctor Banner do not match the readings I have obtained from the person down below.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. If it was Bruce down there, the change in scans was to be expected; after Bruce had injected himself with his version of the Super Soldier formula, there had to have been some changes to Bruce’s physiology. That was what the serum had been designed to do.

“Land the Quinjet,” Tony said. “Let’s get a look at the guy first before we fly off into the sunset.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bucky grumbled, shifting in his seat. “You could get us all caught. What if it’s a Hydra trap?”

“If it’s Bruce, we need to help him,” Tony growled. He got up and stumbled over to the door as the Quinjet landed, stabilizing himself on the metal wall in front of him. “Besides,” he said, “When has Hydra been _that_ inventive? Naked man with a box on the side of the road? Probably not something they would try.”

Bucky sighed and stood up. “Fine, but you’re not going out there without an escort,” he said.

“Sounds good to me,” Rhodey said from his seat. He stretched out, sinking deeper into the padding. “You can take him for that walk. I’m going to take a nap.”

“I’ll watch your back from in here,” Romanoff said, opening the hatch for Tony. “Good luck, Stark.”

“Thanks,” Tony grumbled. He stepped outside and immediately hugged himself, trying to ward off the cold. The weather wasn’t looking too friendly right about now, and he could feel the cold wind even though he was wearing a jacket. He hastened his steps, seeing Bucky behind him out of the comer of his eye and approached the stranger. Up close, it was very clear who the man was.

Bruce had dark bags under his eyes and his skin was milk-white. He was shivering violently, and hugging the cardboard box for dear life. He looked up as Tony approached, his eyes wide and frightened. “Tony?” he called out, his voice hoarse.

“Bruce!” Tony jogged closer. Relief flowed through him; he hadn’t expected to see Bruce again, let alone _alive_. He pulled his jacket off, mourning the loss of the extra warmth and handed it off to Bruce. He peered down into the cardboard box that Bruce had balanced precariously on his knobby knees. Inside were three scrawny-looking kittens. The first was a calico, with a mainly white body and spots of orange, brown and black. The second kitten had white fur with black spots all over its body. The third, and final kitten was a grey and black tabby with black feet. They all looked far too young to be away from their mother and seemed half-starved.

“What do you have there?” Tony asked. “Found yourself some friends?”

Bruce’s left cheek twitched violently; he pulled on Tony’s jacket and zipped it up. Green began to spread across his face.

“Bruce?” Tony said, “What’s going on?”

“Someone left them by the road,” Bruce spat out. The muscles in his neck began to bulge dangerously. “They left three four month old _kittens_ sitting in a box on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.” He clenched his fists.

Bucky tensed behind Tony; he looked ready to pull Tony out of the way so he could lunge at Bruce.

Tony waved a hand behind him and shook his head, hoping that Bucky would get the message. He recognized what was going on in front of him, although the turning green part and bulging muscles was new; Bruce was angry – very _angry_. Thankfully, Tony had had plenty of practice in calming him down.

“Bruce? Hey, you with me?” Tony said, careful to keep his voice steady and calm.

Bruce snorted and squeezed his eyes shut. His fists remained balled up on his knees. “I’m with you,” he ground out.

“Ok, so we need to take care of these little guys and in order to do that, you need to do me a favor, alright?” Tony said, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce looked up, startled by the sudden contact. “What do you need?” he growled.

“I need you to make me a list,” Tony said.

“A list?” Bruce said. “What kind of a list?”

“We need to know what food we need to buy for them – what supplies we need to take care of them. I’ve never had a pet before, so I don’t know what we need. I’m thinking they need special food, right?” Tony said, patting Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce nodded. The green tinge to his skin was beginning to fade. “They’re young,” Bruce said. “They need kitten food – maybe some medical care. I don’t know if they’ve had their shots or not – although I’m thinking those _bastards_ didn’t bother with getting them proper care, so they probably need those too.” Bruce’s nose wrinkled. The green began to blossom again across his forehead.

“Ok – focus on the list for me. We need to know every single thing they need and we need you to help us figure it out, alright?” Tony said. “We can deal with the medical stuff later. Right now, we need all the basics, ok?”

“Alright,” Bruce muttered. He squeezed his eyes shut again. “Do you – do you have any paper? I want to write it down so I don’t forget anything.”

“Sure,” Tony said. He turned to Bucky. “Can you grab the notepad from my bag? There should be a pen in there too.”

Bucky looked ready to protest, but he darted off to the Quinjet without saying a word.

“Who’s that guy?” Bruce asked, putting his face in his hands. “Is he your new bodyguard?”

“I guess you could say that,” Tony chuckled. “I ran into him at SI. He’s Bucky Barnes.”

Bruce’s elbows slid off of his knees; his eyes snapped open, the anger that had once been there was gone at last. “You’re shitting me,” he said, sounding awed. “You found Bucky Barnes?”

“Technically speaking, he found me,” Tony said. He reached into the cardboard box and held his finger out for the kittens to sniff. He hadn’t had a cat before, but he had had a television; he knew what he was supposed to do when approaching one. He stroked the top of the calico’s head when it was satisfied with his scent, rubbing his thumb against its stubby ears. He had always kind of wanted a cat, but he had never had the time to take care of one. Now, he supposed idly, he had plenty of time on his hands and nothing to do with it. Having a kitten might not be such a bad thing.

“He was with Hydra, wasn’t he?” Bruce asked, clearing his throat. He wrapped his arms around his middle again. His shivers were getting more pronounced, as were his Goosebumps. Still, despite Bruce’s apparent suffering, Tony didn’t want to chance letting Bruce on the Quinjet until he had calmed down _completely_. There was no way they could handle the creature Bruce had become, and if Bruce could turn back into that big, green, creature, they might be putting themselves in danger by bringing him along. He didn’t want to have to leave Bruce behind, but he knew he couldn’t risk their lives by bring him along if Bruce wasn’t entirely safe.

“Yeah,” Tony said, carefully choosing his words. “They found him and brainwashed him. He’s with us now – I don’t know much about it. Maybe he’ll talk about it sometime.”

Bruce nodded numbly and turned his attention back to the box of kittens. He leaned forwards and stroked the tiny tabby’s back; the physical contact seemed to sooth him. “Did I hurt anyone?” he asked after a minute of quiet contemplation.

Tony sighed. It was probably better not to lie to Bruce about what had happened, even though he wanted to spare Bruce the pain of what he had done. “Yeah, buddy,” he said. “You killed a bunch of Hydra goons.”

Bruce hung his head.

“If it helps,” Tony said, quickly, “the people you killed had already picked off pretty much everyone on the night staff, so at least they got avenged.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched. “They killed civilians?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. He reached down and patted the spotted kitten on the rump when it tried to crawl its way up the side of the box. “So, how did you find these guys anyways?”

Bruce’s jaw unclenched. “I don’t know,” he muttered. He stroked the tabby again, his eyes locked on its slightly crooked tail. “I woke up on the side of the road with the box sitting next to me, naked as a fucking jay bird and cold as hell. There were some smashed up cars beside us, but I don’t know if I did that or someone else did,” he lamented. “I think I ate a motorcycle.”

“You might have,” Tony chuckled. “You were kind of unhappy with the ATVs Hydra tried to use against you.”

“I keep getting flashes of a Honeybadger,” Bruce admitted sheepishly. “I think I ate that too.”

“The animal, or the vehicle?” Tony teased.

Bruce scowled. “The _vehicle_ ,” he said, smacking Tony in the shoulder. “Where the hell would I have found a _real_ Honeybadger?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said, rubbing his shoulder. He flashed Bruce a toothy grin. “You tell me.”

Bucky jogged back up to them, trying to look casual. He held out the notepad and pen he had found and then stepped back to stand behind Tony, as though uncomfortable leaving his side. He leaned over top of Tony and peered into the cardboard box. His eyes widened ever-so-slightly.

“I don’t think Bucky’s ever had a pet before either,” Tony said. He picked the calico up and cradled it against his chest. It dove for the front of his shirt and burrowed for warmth, purring loudly. He covered its back with his hand, shielding it from the wind. “Hey, little guy,” he said. “It’s ok. We’ll get going soon, just wait a bit, ok?”

Bucky’s flesh-and-blood hand twitched.

“Do you want to pet her?” Tony asked. He lifted his hand and made room for Bucky.

Bucky hesitated for only a second before moving forwards. He stroked the kitten’s soft fur once and then jerked his hand back as if burned. He hovered behind Tony’s back, peering down at the tiny creature’s blue eyes.

“She’s not going to bite,” Tony said. He grimaced when the kitten sank her sharp teeth into his hand and let out a loud, hearty snort. “Ok – never mind. She _will_ bite, but it doesn’t actually hurt. It’s more of a slobbery _gumming_ ,” he said. He gingerly wrestled his hand free from the kitten’s mouth and patted the top of her head. Her purrs grew louder with every gentle sweep of his hand.

Bruce looked up from the notepad; it was already covered in scribbled notes, each one numbered and underlined. “She likes you,” he said, smiling tiredly.

“I sure hope so,” Tony said. He sighed when the kitten sank her teeth into his t-shirt. “Is this love?” he asked, wiggling the kitten’s ears with his hands. The kitten meowed loudly and began to drool all over his shirt, leaving wet patches as it sucked at the fabric near its mouth.

“I guess so,” Bucky said, softly.

“Ok,” Bruce said, clearing his throat. He scanned the list in his hand and then held it out to Tony, tucking the pen carefully into Tony’s hand. “This is what we need.”

“Alright,” Tony said. He set the calico kitten back into the box and stood up, stuffing the pen into his pocket. “I’ll get Jarvis to look up the nearest pet store and we’ll grab some stuff as we go.”

Bucky bent down and picked up the box of kittens. He held the box against his chest. “We should go,” he said.

“Agreed,” Bruce said. He groaned as he stood up and looked plaintively at Tony. “Can you help me walk?”

“I’m guessing that party trick of yours uses up a lot of energy,” Tony said, wrapping an arm around Bruce’s middle.

Bruce nodded, his eyelids already drooping. He threw his arm over Tony’s shoulder. “Can we find me some pants?” he asked, his words slurring.

“Sure thing,” Tony said. “Just try and stay awake a little longer, ok? You’re heavy as fuck, and my back isn’t as young as it used to be.”

“Your back is _fine_ ,” Bruce grumbled, squashing his face into the crook of Tony’s neck. “It’s your old man brain that’s the problem.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Tony grumbled. He lugged Bruce to the Quinjet where Pepper and Natasha stood waiting in the hatch.

Bucky hurried after them, keeping an eye on the horizon and the cuddly contents of the cardboard box.

Pepper reached down and helped Tony hoist Bruce into the Quinjet. “Good to see you’re doing alright,” she said, steadying Bruce so he wouldn’t slip and fall. Tony scrambled up behind him with Bucky at his heels.

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” Bruce mumbled to Pepper.

“We haven’t,” Pepper said.

Bucky handed the box of kittens off to Tony, and then jumped through the hatch.

“You found _kittens_?” Barton said, cocking an eyebrow. “What is with you people and collecting strays?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony grumbled, flapping a hand in Barton’s direction. He put the box of kittens down on a seat beside Steve.

Pepper helped Bruce over to a seat and set him down with an audible oomph.

“Thanks,” Bruce mumbled, drooping in his seat.

Romanoff and Barton watched warily as Tony seatbelted Bruce in and adjusted the straps.

“He’s fine,” Tony insisted, giving Romanoff the stink eye when he saw the way she was looking at Bruce. “He just needs some pants.”

“Right,” Barton said. “That’s what they all say.”

Steve shuffled nervously in his seat, watching Bruce with a mixture of curiosity and concern. His gaze locked on to the squirming kittens when the calico let out a delighted squeak. His eyes went as wide as saucers; his mouth dropped open.

Bucky smiled softly and sat down a few seats away, seatbelting himself in.

“Hey,” Tony called out, “Jarvis, do me a favor, will you?”

“Yes, sir?” Jarvis said, his voice echoing from the cockpit.

“I’m going to read you a list – find me a pet store in range that has everything,” Tony said.

 

 

They sent Barton into a Paw’s Petshop. He snapped up everything on the list using the bundle of emergency cash Tony had in his bag. He returned with three bulging bags and a large cat carrier filled with soft bedding. Romanoff sorted through his purchases while Jarvis piloted the Quinjet, taking them to Tony’s safehouse, humming and hawing over Barton’s choices while he grumbled in the background.

The kittens fell asleep after a quick meal of mushy cat food.

Romanoff sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know if we can keep them,” she said, stroking the spotted kitten’s paws.

“We can decided later,” Pepper yawned. “Let’s wait and see what our options are. There’s no sense in rushing yet.”

“Agreed,” Rhodey said, leaning back in his seat.

Romanoff nodded in agreement and curled up in the seat beside the cardboard box. She glanced over at Steve, who was cradling the calico in his lap, feeding it bits of mushy food off of a plastic spoon. “Is this your first cat?” Romanoff asked.

Steve smiled. “I was allergic to them back before the serum,” he said, “and after, well, Howard didn’t really like cute fluffy things.”

“Howard didn’t like much of _anything_ ,” Tony grumbled, closing his eyes. “Are we there yet Jarvis?”

“We will arrive in approximately ten minutes, sir,” Jarvis said.

“Good,” Tony said. “Wake me up when we land.”

 

 

Jarvis landed the Quinjet in the backyard at Tony’s safehouse. Tony didn’t have many neighbors, and for now, they were safe and out of sight. They pulled a tarp over the Quinjet to disguise its appearance and snuck inside.

They gathered around in Tony’s kitchen waiting for their pizza and Chinese food to arrive with the kittens sleeping in their box on the floor; they hadn’t been able to pick which they wanted more so they had decided to get a little bit of everything, including enough to take with them when they left.

“I’m going to pack some stuff up,” Tony said, clearing his throat. “Feel free to look around and raid my cupboards or whatnot.”

He went upstairs and threw together a suitcase, packing away as much of his clothing as he could. Most of what was here was brand new, stashed away for better days. His figurine collection and posters would just have to stay – he couldn’t take everything, even though he wanted to. Looking around his bedroom, one he rarely visited, he felt satisfied that he had gotten the best of his life packed away; he scooped up his box of comics, refusing to leave those behind and left the room without looking back. He carried everything to the living room, leaving it on the floor, and stomped down to the basement where he set about packing up his spare lab equipment and the drives filled with SI’s dirty secrets. Howard didn’t know about this place, but that didn’t mean they could risk dawdling here for too long; it was probably safer if they didn’t stay to eat.

Pepper foraged in Tony’s kitchen and came up with a pack of paper plates, plastic knives and forks while the others helped Tony load the Quinjet with his lab equipment. Steve explored the house as they worked, slipping from room to room, examining everything he saw with delicate, careful touches. He emerged from Tony’s bedroom just as they were getting ready to leave carrying Tony’s duvet and pillows under his arm. He was having a hard time carrying everything.

“Planning a sleepover?” Tony asked. He took the duvet from Steve and folded it up, throwing it over his shoulder.

Steve shrugged. “It seemed a shame to leave them. They’re soft,” he said. He sighed and looked around the kitchen. “We didn’t have a place like this back when I was younger. Ma could never afford the rent.”

Bucky shifted nervously in the living room as Tony took one last look around. As they moved to the back door to head out to the Quinjet, he snatched one of Tony’s zippered hoodies from the back of a chair and pulled it on, hiding away his cybernetic arm.

Tony glanced back at the house with a sad smile. He had been planning on retiring here one day. That, it seemed, wasn’t in the cards. It wasn’t all bad, though. At least now he wouldn’t be alone for the rest of his life.

 

 

They flew the Quinjet a town over and stopped at the nearest ATM so they could each withdraw everything they could from their bank accounts. They couldn’t exactly go back to SHIELD for help, not with targets on their backs; they would have to pool their resources and hope they could survive off of it.

“So do we get to head off to our own homes for stuff? Or is Stark the only one who gets that privilege?” Barton grumbled sullenly.

“It’s too dangerous,” Romanoff said, shaking her head. “They’re probably watching our houses now that they know we survived. I wouldn’t put it past Fury to post guards.”

Barton sighed and slumped in his seat. “This is bullshit.”

Romanoff crossed her arms over her chest. “I know how you feel, but that’s the way it’s got to be.”

They made it back into the air with their collected wads of cash just in time to avoid getting spotted by what could only be Hydra soldiers masquerading as police officers. Somehow, even though they were in a vehicle with no GPS and no serial numbers, they had been followed.

“Well,” Barton growled, glaring at the Hydra soldiers from the safety of the cockpit, “I guess that solves our problem. You’re right, Nat. We can’t head back. Hell, we were probably lucky to make it to Stark’s place.”

“I guess so,” Pepper sighed. She banged her fist on the armrest beside her. “ _Damn_ it. I wanted to get my fucking photo album. Everything else was replaceable – but that, that isn’t.”

Romanoff rested her hand on Pepper’s shoulder. “Maybe we can sneak in later once this thing has blown over.”

“I don’t think that’ll work. I’m betting they’re going to burn our houses to the fucking _ground_ ,” Pepper muttered. Her shoulders slumped. “We can’t risk showing up in town again. Hydra will be watching and waiting.”

“Cheer up,” Tony said. He dug into his bag when she glared at him and held up a memory stick. When the glare didn’t vanish, he gave the memory stick a wave again. “I scanned your pictures in for you, remember?” he said.

Pepper stilled. “What?”

“You and Rhodey brought all your photos over,” Tony continued. “ _Seriously_? You don’t remember? I spent like three days scanning all of them in. You brought me a truckload of beer as a thank you and we got shitfaced all weekend. That’s not ringing any bells?”

Pepper’s smile was blinding. She darted forwards and wrapped her arms around Tony’s neck, hugging him so tightly he was afraid he might pass out from lack of air.

Rhodey grinned and settled for slapping Tony affectionately on the back. “I forgot all about that, man!”

“Hey, you guys were the ones who wanted to have backups,” Tony insisted, gently patting Pepper’s back. “You were bitching and moaning about how you couldn’t keep them close. I was wondering why you guys never asked me for the memory stick.”

Barton scowled. “I guess we should have been friends with Stark, huh?” he said to Romanoff.

Romanoff sighed. “I guess so.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything of mine, would you?” Bruce asked, shifting nervously in his seat. He squinted at Tony; they hadn’t been able to find him a pair of glasses yet, so for now he was stuck without them. Everything was likely blurry and out of focus.

“Sorry,” Tony said, with a sigh. “I’ve only got the stuff you had on your drive at work.”

Bruce smiled brightly. “That’s perfect!”

Tony grinned.

“I didn’t get any of my pictures printed out,” Bruce explained. He ducked his head, looking shamefaced as though he had just admitted to robbing a bank. “I moved around so much, I stopped making physical copies.”

“There’s no shame in that,” Tony said. He was glad he had been able to help, without even realizing it.

“Thank you – and seriously, Tony. Thank you,” Bruce said, his voice cracking. He looked away, focusing on the seat beside him. “Those were the only pictures I had of Betty.”

“You’re very welcome,” Tony said.

“What about my files?” Bruce asked, rubbing at his nose. “You’ve got my project files too, right?”

“I’ve got everything,” Tony said.

“You’ve got the folders for Project: Thor and Project: Loki?” Bruce asked.

Tony nodded slowly. He hadn’t had the chance to look into those folders specifically but he knew how important they were to Bruce. Bruce’s work was his life; it had been that way ever since his fiancé had left him.

“Is it possible to wipe SI’s drives from here?” Bruce asked.

Tony shook his head. “We’re out of range. I’d have to go back to even pick up the signal – assuming they haven’t locked everything down already.”

Bruce shrugged. “It’s ok. At least you got copies of everything. I’m sure Howard has backups anyway – even if you had deleted everything, those files would probably pop up again someday. At least I have all of my personal notes. He won’t get far without those.”

“Well, at least we’ve got everything we need,” Tony said.

Steve wrapped himself a little tighter in his blanket. He looked down at the floor and let out a soft sigh.

Tony cleared his throat. “So can I have my lungs back now?” he asked Pepper. “Because I’d kind of like to give Steve his stuff.”

Pepper chuckled and pulled away, returning to her seat. “Fine,” she said. “Keep your precious lungs.”

Steve looked up sharply. “What do you mean _my stuff_?” He glanced over at his shield, where it sat strapped into its own seat. “I’ve got everything I came out with,” he said.

“No you don’t,” Tony said. He grinned broadly and toed his battered bag out from under his seat, where he had stashed it to make space for his lab equipment. He pulled out Steve’s sketchbook, mindful of the files and tools inside the bag and wiped it down with his hand to make sure it was clean.

Steve swallowed audibly. “You – Where did you get that from?”

“I _reclaimed_ it from Howard’s office,” Tony said. He handed it over to Steve, and watched eagerly as Steve flipped the sketchbook open.

Steve’s gaze turned reverent. He ran his fingers over the images, tracing the lines delicately as if they had been made on tissue paper; when he finally looked up at Tony, there were tears in his eyes. “Why did you keep it?” he croaked. He closed the sketchbook and held it tightly to his chest as though afraid it might disappear or be ripped away. Tony wondered how many times it had vanished on Steve over the years. Perhaps its appearance in Howard’s cupboard hadn’t been such a coincidence; maybe it had been taken to prove a point.

“It seemed special,” Tony said. “We saw Bucky’s face in it, and I mean, if we hadn’t, we never would have known who he was.” Steve’s sketches had been the one good thing he had seen in SI that day – aside from Steve himself. The drawings had been too beautiful to abandon, and Tony had known just by looking at them that they meant the world to Steve. “We couldn’t leave it behind – not after that. We knew that if we found you, you’d want it back,” Tony said, clearing his throat. “It turned out to be good luck, too. It led us to you, after all.”

Steve curled his legs under him and turned to Bucky. He hadn’t stopped sneaking glances at him since they had taken to the air; despite the fact that Bucky couldn’t remember him, it took only one tentative look from Steve to get Bucky to stand up and take the seat beside him.

Bucky leaned back into his seat, burying himself in his stolen hoodie. He stared defiantly at Steve’s kneecap. “Look – let’s get some things clear, alright? I don’t remember the stuff that happened when you drew that picture of me,” he murmured. “So don’t expect me to be your best pal.”

Steve’s smile dimmed. “You don’t remember _anything_?”

“Nope,” Bucky said. He closed his eyes. “I remember being Hydra’s weapon, but that’s it.”

Steve let his hand hover for a moment before settling it on Bucky’s hand.

Bucky opened one eye. “ _What_?”

“Thank you,” Steve said, his expression solemn. “Thank you for coming back for me.”

“I didn’t do it on _purpose_ ,” Bucky muttered, looking away again.

Steve let go of Bucky’s hand and settled his back in his lap. “That’s ok,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky muttered.

“I thought you were dead,” Steve whispered.

Bucky heaved a sigh. “I’ve got nothing to offer you – any of you. Once we’re somewhere safe, I’m out of here.”

Steve jerked backwards, looking hurt. “You’re _leaving_?”

“He’s not leaving,” Tony snorted. He reached around Steve’s shoulder and flicked Bucky in the ear.

Bucky scowled and leaned away so he couldn’t be flicked again. For an ex-assassin, he was could be incredibly passive when he wanted to be.

Steve hunched over the sketchbook and curled around it, staring down at his knees.

“He’s not leaving,” Tony said again. He hesitated and then wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulder. “None of us are leaving. You’re stuck with us.”

“It would be easier if we split up,” Romanoff said. She steepled her fingers and rested her elbows on her knees. “Face it. We’re a big group, Stark. Together we’ll attract a lot of unwanted attention.”

“And apart, we’re easy pickings,” Tony grunted. He looked around the Quinjet and shook his head. “Do you honestly think that any of us would be able to fight off Hydra, what’s left of SI, Stane, Viastone _and_ SHIELD? Come on. Be realistic. We’d last ten minutes on our own – well, _you’d_ last ten minutes. I’d be dead in about ten seconds.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Bruce said. “They’ll take us all in and lock us away.”

Barton sighed. “He’s got a point, Nat,” he said. “Besides – they’re going to _expect_ us to split up. We might as well throw them off their game by not doing it.”

“I suppose we could make it work,” Romanoff relented. She glanced over at Steve and Bruce. “Besides – someone needs to keep an eye on them. If someone gets a hold either of them again, there’s no telling what might happen.”

Steve frowned. “I’m not useless, you know.”

“We know,” Romanoff said. “I’m more worried about the collateral damage. You need to learn how to control those powers of yours before you hurt someone by accident – the same goes for you, Banner.”

Steve grimaced. “I know how to control them.”

“Oh?” Romanoff cocked an eyebrow. “Then explain why you hit Clint in the head with a stack of paper plates earlier. Enlighten me.”

Steve scowled up at Romanoff. “That was an accident.”

“Right,” Romanoff said. “So it won’t happen again? What about you, Banner? What happens if you hulk out on us again?”

Bruce sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I know how to control the change – sort of. I just need to stay calm – and far, far away from people. The angrier I get, the harder it is to control.”

“Don’t worry,” Tony said, squeezing Steve’s shoulders. “We’ll figure something out.”

Steve shook his head. “That’s not what I’m worried about,” he said. He fell silent and went back to staring forlornly at his sketchbook.

 

 

They landed the Quinjet when they ran out of fuel and bought a van from a man in a diner they stopped at who was looking to get rid of it for cheap. Barton and Tony checked it over before loading it up with their things; it wasn’t in the best shape, but it would run and get them where they needed to go. From there, they drove for a week straight, stopping only for food and the bathroom – for them and the kittens.

The drive was quiet and the countryside even quieter. It seemed like they were headed out into the middle of nowhere, and Tony was more than happy to take the back roads for once in his life. They needed to get as far away from SI, Hydra, SHIELD and all the other companies hunting them down as possible and fast.

Here, there was no one around who gave two shits about _corporations_ or the city, and anyone that showed interest quickly moved along when they heard how the strangers were just passing through and not planning on sticking around. The further they got away from the cities they passed, the easier it was to find housing; seemingly everyone and their great grandmother had a place to hock, and no one wanted to ask questions when it came to getting their hands on tax-free money. No one cared who you were as long as you kept your head down and your walls high and well maintained; you could be a homicidal murderer, and no one would have batted an eyelash. Tony both loved it and loathed it. Sure, their neighbors loved to snoop, but that was easy enough to combat; all they had to do was play dumb when they were outside.

They bought a farmhouse below a mountain, keeping their transactions cash-only and settled in, installing a security system during their first night there. The work went fast; they had picked up half of what they needed from Tony’s lab, and everything else had been easily purchased at the local hardware store. The system was one of Tony’s design; it was un-hackable, patrolled by Jarvis and a good fifty other programs. When they were done, their new home felt far, far safer. They spread out and claimed rooms for themselves, filling their home with furniture, clothing and bedding in small trips, getting only what was necessary.

The farmhouse had four floors and a basement that had likely been used to store canned goods; it was old and creaky, but everything that was wrong with it could be easily fixed. Tony knew enough about construction to get things set right, and he had more than enough muscle to help him do it.

Barton and Romanoff chose to share the master bedroom at the very top of the house. They both wanted to keep their eyes on the horizon at all times.

Tony and Steve took rooms on the floor below Barton and Romanoff. Barnes took the room below them, flanked on opposite sides by Pepper and Rhodey.

The lower floor was made of up a kitchen, bathroom, living room and a small bedroom where Bruce slept. It was the homiest of the floors, the most heavily furnished, and where they spent the most of their time.

The days went slowly, and pleasantly.

Everyone they ran into in town seemed to think that they were a group of hippies looking for time away from the city; no one bothered to correct them. They smiled vapidly at their neighbors when anyone got too close and made small talk about gardening and house repair like everyone else did.

Natasha and Pepper took over the garden plot that made up nearly half of the backyard, running it with military-like efficiency. They tasked Rhodey and Bucky with tilling the soil and spent their free time reading up on seeds and planting schedules, battling their way through the information. Once the seeds were in the ground, they prowled the garden in the mornings, plucking weeds with narrowed eyes.

Tony was surprised to find that he didn’t mind lending a hand. Yes, there was the occasional spider and bee, but he had friends to hide behind and use as human shields now; it wasn’t all that bad being outside. He wondered what it would have been like to grow up in a place like this. Would he have turned out differently? Would things have been different for Steve if Howard hadn’t been a genius? Somehow, he didn’t think Howard would ever have been a different man, even if he had lived elsewhere or in poverty. Howard was to dark inside – too horrible a person to have ever been kind, even as a child. He had never met his grandparents, but they had to have been responsible somehow. How else could a child grow up so cruel?

Steve was the only one who didn’t go outside. He had taken a cursory walk around the first day they had moved in, but now he seemed content to sit in on the couch in the living room wrapped in a blanket or tucked under a mound of pillows with the kittens crawling around beside him; the kittens didn’t go outside either, although that was more because something outside might eat them than because they didn’t want to leave. They ran for the door often every time it opened, and Bucky had snatched the tabby of out of the garden once already.

Steve wasn’t interested in the outside world. He watched old movies on their used television, skimming the satellite feeds on the rare occasion when he felt particularly interested, and while he seemed to enjoy helping out in the kitchen, he was reluctant to do much else unless asked.

 

 

Tony sighed and snuck glances at Steve from the kitchen doorway, hovering in between rooms. “I wonder if he was always like this,” he murmured.

Pepper continued to cut up carrots for dinner; she didn’t take her eyes off the chopping board. “I don’t know, Tony,” she said. “Maybe he just doesn’t believe he’s out of SI yet. That happens sometimes to soldiers – they forget they’re not fighting anymore and they don’t know what to do.” She dumped the first bowl of julienned carrots into a frying pan and went back to slicing up more. She and Rhodey had a system worked out; they were the only two who could plan out edible meals, and while they didn’t like their job, they were more than happy to do it in order to get out of washing the dishes.

Rhodey picked up the second half of the chicken he had been deboning. “You know, you could go over there and sit with him.”

“I don’t know,” Tony sighed, fidgeting with his collar. “I think its Bucky he wants around.”

“Well _Bucky’s_ not going to go over there, so suck it up buttercup,” Pepper snorted. She gestured at Tony with her carrot juice stained knife. “Now march – get over there. Cheer him up!”

Scowling, Tony sauntered out into the living room. He plastered a smile on his face and flung himself onto the couch beside Steve, draping his arm across the back of it. “Hey,” he said. “What are we watching?”

Steve smiled melancholically. “I don’t know,” he said. “I kind of fell asleep and now I’m lost.”

“Ah,” Tony said, nodding sagely. “You can always check on the channel guide, you know.”

“I know,” Steve said. He hugged his blanket a little closer. He was still using the duvet he had taken from Tony’s house. “I don’t really care. It’s fine like this,” he said.

“You know, there’s a whole world out there,” Tony said. He knew how stupid it sounded, but he couldn’t think of any other way to phrase what he wanted to say without it sounding like an order. “We can go for a walk if you want. It’s still light out, and it’s warmer today. Might be fun.”

Steve looked down at his sock-clad feet. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Bucky’s outside chopping wood, Steve. He’s not fleeing to Mexico in a hot-rod,” Tony said. He elbowed Steve gently. “He’s still out there. We can go visit him.”

Despite the care Tony had taken, Steve wobbled and nearly fell into the arm of the couch.

“Sorry,” Tony said. He reached out to help Steve up and found his hand batted away.

“Its fine,” Steve grumbled. He rubbed absently at the back of his neck. They hadn’t tackled his long hair yet, and it was still hanging down to his feet; he had it pulled back into a ponytail, but kept picking at it as though it was a scab he was trying to tear off.

“We can give you haircut if you want,” Tony offered.

Steve’s eyes flashed. The room began to shake.

Tony held up his hands, his eyes widening. His heart was hammering in his chest. “I’m not saying we have to do it, Steve. I’m saying it’s a possibility if you want it to be,” he said, quickly.

Steve looked down at his feet again; he hunched his shoulders and put his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said, quietly.

“It’s ok,” Tony murmured. He remained locked in place with his hands in the air. Steve hadn’t lost control of his powers in a long time, but he didn’t want _this_ to be the first time it happened again; if Steve was feeling well and truly threatened, there might not ever _be_ a next time. He was jarred from his thoughts when he heard Steve’s muffled sob. He lowered his hands immediately, realizing that the sight of them was probably making things worse. “It’s alright,” he said. He hesitated. Should he touch Steve’s back? Should he move at all? He could see Pepper and Rhodey out of the corner of his eye, lurking in the kitchen doorway with their knives discretely out of sight.

Steve lifted his head and wiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he wheezed. He wrapped his arms around himself, shrinking in size. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I freaked you out,” Tony said, softly. “It’s ok. You have the right to be afraid, you know.”

“They used to shave my head,” Steve sniffled. He wiped at his nose. “Howard used to make them do it when my hair got too long. He said it made me look _weak_.”

Tony grimaced. Howard had said the same thing to him growing up. The length of his hair had started more than a few fights; his Goth period in seventh grade had made Howard threaten to both shave his head and disown him. Needless to say, his long, flowing hair had been cut during a trip to the hairdresser with his mother shortly after the threat of disownment had been issued. Maria had convinced him that short hair was just as good, but a part of Tony had always resented that she had given in to Howard’s demands so easily. Now he knew why she had taken him to the hairdresser on her own; Howard probably _would_ have pinned him down and shaved his head if she hadn’t. “Howard’s a dick,” he said. He wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled him into his lap. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Steve sniffled and leaned against Tony’s chest. “I don’t want to cut my hair,” he said.

“Ok,” Tony said, soothingly. “Then we won’t cut your hair.” He smoothed his hands down Steve’s back, rearranging Steve’s shirt all the while trying not to visibly frown at the feeling of Steve’s spine beneath his fingertips. He had expected Steve to gain some weight already, seeing as how they had been feeding him real food and all, but apparently even three square meals a day wasn’t helping out much. He hoped time would change that; the physical exhaustion must have been horrible for Steve. The poor guy could barely make it from the couch to the bathroom some days.

“He was on the news today,” Steve mumbled. He tucked his face into the hollow of Tony’s throat. “He’s doing announcements again like he’s the president or something.”

“I know,” Tony said, rubbing Steve’s back again. He had seen the news conference on the satellite feed earlier in the morning; they all had. They hadn’t thought it was a good idea to show Steve Howard’s ugly mug, at least not until he had had a few months of freedom under his belt. Someone had obviously abandoned TV guard duty, because Steve had seen the fucking bastard anyway.

“How can he say that kind of stuff about you?” Steve growled. The room began to shake again, only this time it wasn’t threatening; it seemed almost as if the house was growling along with him.

“Believe me. He finds it very easy to pick on me,” Tony chuckled. “He’d probably have a stroke if he had to say something nice about me for a change.”

“He shouldn’t say that stuff,” Steve snapped. The house stopped shaking. “You’re a good person, Tony.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Tony said. He hugged Steve a little tighter.

“ _Everyone_ thinks so,” Steve grumbled. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s middle. “I can tell.”

“You can?” Tony asked.

“Sometimes I can read things,” Steve admitted, ducking his head sheepishly. “It’s in the air sometimes – it floats around people. Does that make sense? I feel like I’m going crazy just saying it out loud.”

“You’re not going crazy,” Tony said. Howard had hidden a lot of what Steve was capable of, and they had only just scratched the surface of Steve’s powers; he wasn’t at all surprised that Telepathy or Empathic skills – or whatever it was – had ended up in Steve’s repertoire. He reminded himself not to think bad thought when Steve was around. At least now he could explain why Steve never seemed to be in a good mood. Everyone was hiding something, and most of the team was still suffering from the battles in SI. He vowed to talk to the others about this new discovery too; it would be better if they all knew.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Steve said.

“I know,” Tony said. “You won’t. We’re a strong bunch – we’ll be ok.”

“I could have hurt you,” Steve sniffled.

“But you didn’t,” Tony said, squeezing Steve’s shoulder. “You’re with us and we’ll always be with you, ok? And if not – well, we’ll figure something out.”

“I wish I hadn’t taken the serum,” Steve muttered. “I wish it hadn’t worked.”

“If it hadn’t worked, you wouldn’t be here right now,” Tony said. Sarah Rogers would never have been able to afford the treatment for Steve’s many maladies on her own. Steve would have likely died years ago if Howard hadn’t butted his way into Steve’s life; he wished that Steve hadn’t had to suffer at Howard’s hands but the serum had helped Steve survive, and for that he was grateful.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Steve said, softly.

Tony swallowed hard. This wasn’t the first time Steve had talked like this and he doubted that it would be the last – at least not for a long time. “Honey,” he said. “We care about you. We don’t want to lose you.”

“Tony,” Steve sighed.

“Ok – fine. _I_ care about you,” Tony said. He smoothed down Steve’s hair. He had never really been good with talking about his feelings; they were dangerous, fickle things. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, forcing his thoughts out. “You’re mine and I’m keeping you.”

Steve’s startled laugh made Tony smile.

“What?” Steve said, looking up. His smiled tentatively, and didn’t look away when Tony met his gaze.

“I know,” Tony grumbled. “I sound like an ass.”

“You want to _keep_ me?” Steve asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Always – if you want to stay,” Tony said.

Steve lifted himself up and rested his palms on Tony’s shoulders. “So if I stay, you’ll have to stick around forever, huh?”

Tony nodded. “I guess so.”

“That’s a pretty big promise,” Steve murmured.

“Is it?” Tony said. “Because I’ve got you and everyone else looking out for me. I don’t think it’s that big of a promise at all. Hell, we’ve got three kittens looking out for us too –”

Steve kissed Tony, his fingers tangling in Tony’s hair; when he pulled away, he was breathless, and his cheeks looked like they had gone a round with one of Pepper’s blush brushes. “Did you not – Did I read that wrong?” Steve stammered.

Tony leaned forwards and gave Steve a kiss on the tip of his nose. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, cupping Steve’s face in his hands. He pulled him down for another kiss – a better kiss – and stubbornly ignored the lewd cat-calls from the kitchen.

Steve tucked his face into Tony’s neck again after he pulled away. He dug his fingers into Tony’s shirt, holding on tightly.

“You ok?” Tony asked. He cupped the back of Steve’s neck and stroked his other hand up Steve’s back again, wondering idly if he was going to have to turn around and tell Pepper and Rhodey off. Those two had the tact of a dump truck sometimes.

“I thought I was dreaming,” Steve said. He drummed his fingers on Tony’s shoulder. “Back when you broke me out of the Vault, I said I didn’t know who you were, but I think I did.”

“Oh?” Tony said.

“I used to dream all the time about sitting in the hallway with a stranger who tried to take care of me. Those were the best dreams I’ve ever had,” Steve mumbled. “I thought you weren’t real – I thought I was making things up. Good things always felt like they were made up.”

“Well, I _am_ pretty amazing,” Tony said, giving Steve’s hip a gentle squeeze. “I can see how you’d think I was a dream come true.”

Steve laughed. “Very funny.”

“Thank you,” Tony said, gravely. “I try.”

“Can I sleep with you tonight? Sometimes the dreams aren’t dreams – sometimes it doesn’t feel like I’m ever going to wake up,” Steve mumbled.

“You can sleep with me whenever you want,” Tony said. “Seriously. My bed is yours.”

Steve melted deeper into Tony’s embrace. “Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me,” Tony said, gravely. “I’m a bed hog. You might end up with my feet in your face again.”

Tony didn’t have to see Steve’s face to know he was smiling.

“Well, thank you anyway,” Steve said. He sighed softly and shifted in Tony’s lap, making himself more comfortable. “You’re the only one who ever came to get me,” he said.

“You were worth the trouble,” Tony said, firmly. 

“Yeah?” Steve said. “I was?”

“You were  _ definitely  _ worth the trouble,” Tony agreed.

Pepper snorted loudly from the doorway. “You two better not make any  _ more _ trouble.” 

“Yeah, really,” Rhodey grunted. He scowled at Tony. “You better not befoul that couch, Tony Stark.”

Steve’s neck went bright red.

“We’re not going to  _ befoul _ the couch,” Tony croaked. He turned and glared at Rhodey. “I  _ hate _ you guys.”

“And we hate you too.” Pepper chuckled. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” she said, disappearing back into the kitchen. 

Rhodey glared back at Tony. “You’d better like it or you’re cooking next time.”

“You’d really risk giving all of us food poisoning?” Tony asked, curious.

Rhodey scowled. “Never mind.”

Steve let out a long, satisfied sigh. “I could get used to this,” he said.

“Same here,” Tony said with a smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who commented and kudoed! I'm so happy people enjoyed this fic - it was rattling around in my head for so long, and I'm glad that it's out there and finally, finally finished! Let me know if you find anything funky and I'll try to fix it!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fic! Updates should be every Saturday/Sunday! The fic is completely finished - I'm just uploading it a chapter at a time to make sure I've managed to get all the errors fixed. Let me know if you spot anything and I'll fix it! (Pleas leave the chapter # with the error so I can fix it quickly :D)


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